Sweet Cherry Pie
by SeaKat
Summary: Will be a Trilogy; follow Sam on a journey of sexual exploration. Begins as puberty hits. The joy & pain of the loss of innocence starts his path to self discovery. Will have explicit sex, language, and possible wincest. If you read, please review.
1. The Seed is Sown

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. (I really wish I did...pretty boy toys are a girl's best friend!)

**A/N: **This is going to be a trilogy. This story will take Sam through puberty and his loss of virginity. It will get explicit. It will be teenage hormones and there will be some bad language. If you are offended by any of this, you have been forewarned. If you read, please review...it feeds the plot bunnies! Thank you and I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.--Kat

The lights dimmed in the classroom. It was Health Class and they were beginning the chapter on "Human Reproduction" also known as "Sex Education." Sam Connelly (real name Winchester) shrank down in his seat. At twelve, he was one of the youngest in class and also one of the smallest. He had not had a growth spurt yet and the "baby fat" that clung to his body made him look younger. His mop of unruly brown hair fell carelessly in his hazel eyes as he looked down at the notebook in front of him. A blush began to burn crimson on his full cheeks. While he had yet to understand the attraction of the female form, he was embarrassed that he would have to sit in the same class while the more physically "mature" boys made catcalls at the breasts flashing on the screen and the developing girls giggled at the scenes showing the male phallus. To Sam, it was just anatomy, what was the big deal?

He watched without word as the film described the act of coitus. He stared in awe as the mechanics of the act were described using diagrams. He drank in the knowledge of how the male and female bodies worked and marveled at the ingenious way the human forms were created to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. For the first time, he began to feel a heat burn between his legs and to his surprise, he began to grow firm and lengthen in his jeans. The curve of the female hip made beads of perspiration break out on his upper lip. His lips felt dry as he became enthralled with the shape and rosy pink color of the woman's nipples. He licked his lips, trying to relieve the parched skin. His lower stomach began to feel funny as he shifted in his seat, searching for some way to alleviate the pressure on his now fully erect penis. To his horror, a wet spot became visible on his right thigh and a tingling sensation ran through his body. He wondered what it would feel like to actually act out the things he saw on the film…that is until it began speaking of the consequences of "unprotected" sex.

The horror he saw before him was more terrifying than any monster. He gasped as various pictures of STD s flashed on screen. If that were not enough to deter any young, hormonally charged pre-teen from taking the next step, the next images were: Live Birth…Sam's hand flew to his mouth as the hospital scene unfolded. The blood drained from his face and his erection fell limp. He felt sick as he watched the woman, in obvious pain, pushing. He stood to run to the bathroom but could not take his eyes from the gruesome scene. Before he could reach the door, the baby's head crowned and Sam fainted. A sickening thudd was heard throught the class as skull hit tile.

* * *

The opening rift of AC/DC's "Back in Black" ruptured the silence of the classroom as Dean's cell phone went off. Mr. Whitlow, the white-haired, bifocal clad English teacher glared in disdain at the boy.

"Mr. Connelly, you were instructed to turn all cell phones and pagers off while taking the mid-term. Bring your answer sheet and test to my desk, then report to the principal's office," the man barked.

"Dude, chill! That's my brother's school," Dean calmly explained to his teacher.

"I do not care if it is the Pope himself! Rules are made to be followed. You are no exception!" he glared over the rim of his spectacles.

"Well, screw you and your damn test," Dean huffed as he threw the papers down. "If you would pull the ruler out of your ass for a few minutes a day, maybe you wouldn't be such a dick," the teen threw over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room. He heard the teacher grumble something unintelligible to the class as they broke out in laughter.

He knew he would get an earful when his dad was called. He would probably have to do a few more miles than the normal training, but he didn't care. He needed the phone on in case something happened to Sammy. He stormed out to the parking lot and got into his baby. The engine roared to life as he sped away towards his brother's school.

* * *

Sam heard a soft voice calling his name. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the fluorescent lights in the nurse's office. A pair of concerned green eyes peered down at him. He shook his head to clear away the fog clouding his mind and immediately regretted it. A wave of nausea hit him and he groaned as he tried to repress the urge to vomit.

"Whoa, kiddo. Take it easy, Sammy. You passed out and hit your head, dude. I'm here to take you home now," the elder brother soothed. The concern was etched on his young face.

"M'kay, Dean. Just got a little sick. Must've been the tuna surprise at lunch," the younger boy joked. He would not tell anyone of the repulsive images that he had seen. He would never let anyone know that those images would terrorize his dreams for weeks to come. He would never let anyone know that the thought of sex now frightened him to his very core. It would be years before Sam would be able to think of the act without bile rising to the back of his throat.


	2. Man? in the Mirror

Dean signed his little brother out of school and hovered like a mother hen as they made their way to the black Chevy parked in front of the entrance. Sam sighed as he saw the "No parking" sign and the school's security guard writing on a little pad of paper. "Dean," he said in a hushed voice as he pointed to the man. The elder Winchester's face flushed crimson and he clenched his jaw rigidly. His grip around the young boy's shoulders tightened, but he did not rush forward.

"Hey! I'm right here," he bellowed. The formidable voice made the guard jerk his head up from his paperwork. His dour expression melted as he observed the obviously ill little boy being herded to the vehicle by an over-protective older brother. The visible concern in the taller boy's green eyes did not match the bravado he attempted to portray.

"This is a no parking zone. By the regulations, I'm supposed to cite your vehicle. School rules state that three citations on any one vehicle revoke the driving privileges on campus for said vehicle." The middle-aged man tried to sound officious. While he had no intentions of finishing his ticket, he wanted to make sure that the teenager understood the rules and that next time he wouldn't be so lenient.

"Sir, my little brother is ill. Where else am I supposed to park? All of the spaces here are reserved for the teachers and I'll be damned if I'm going to make Sammy walk down to that overflow lot when he just passed out in class!" Dean was doing his best to control the frustration and anger that was now boiling in his veins. He opened the passenger door and gently eased his sibling into the seat. Upon closing the door, he walked around the front of the car, his green eyes never leaving the hazel ones that peered through the windshield.

The gentle, compassionate way the edgy teen dealt with 'Sammy', made the guard groan inwardly. It reminded him of a different time when he had been the older brother left by a drunken father to care for his baby sis. It made the man wonder where the parents were.

"Son, are your mom and dad around? It's not policy to let a sibling check someone out."

"Dude, listen…First, I'm not your son. Second, our mother is dead. Third, I have a power of attorney that states while my father is away on business, I have every freakin' right to check him out or do whatever the hell else is necessary to take care of him. Now, Mr. Barney Fife-I'm–not-good-enough-to-get-into-the-police-academy-but-I-can-still–feel-like-I–have-some-authority-'cuz-I–have-a-uniform –and-a-badge-rent-a-cop, I would appreciate it if you would move your ass away from MY CAR so I can take care of my brother." The young man's face was calm but his words were laced with venom and his eyes burned with a protective rage that made the guard's heart quicken and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Looking into those eyes, he had no doubt that if he didn't move on his own; he would be moved, by hand or by car.

He swallowed the lump that had rapidly grown in his throat and nodded to the brother-bear in front of him. "Just keep in mind that next time a ticket will be issued," he stammered, unable to control the emasculating sound that came from his mouth. He stepped back, giving room for the brooding young man. An icy glare was the only recognition he received before the Impala spit pebbles at him.

* * *

The ride back to the motel was quiet. Sam's head was pounding. Another wave of nausea hit him as he looked down to see a stain on his jeans from the wet spot that had appeared in class. He quickly pulled his backpack onto his lap and rolled the window down. His hair became an unruly mop as the wind tore at his locks.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean questioned his voice thick with worry. A simple nod was the answer he received. His awesome-big-brother instincts told him that this was no ordinary case of bad cafeteria food. He was torn: his baby brother obviously didn't want to talk about it, but how could Dean fix it if he didn't know what 'it' was? "So, you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Don't wanna talk about it, De."

"Too bad, baby bro. That isn't an option here. Either you tell _me _what happened back there, or you tell _Dad…_ Damn it, Sammy, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong!" Dean fisted the steering wheel. He was frustrated and didn't want to take it out on his brother, but when it came to the baby of the family, control wasn't Dean's best virtue. He was Sam's protector, pretty much his father-figure as John Winchester was 'gone on business' more often than not.

"I'm not a baby anymore!" Sam's face flushed with embarrassment as his voice cracked. That was just perfect! He swore under his breath as he heard a low chuckle coming from the driver's seat. "Damn it, Dean, it isn't funny!"

The older sibling ceased laughing as the answer flooded his brain. How old was Sammy? What grade was he in? "Holy shit, Sammy! Dude, did they show that gross-ass video in Health today?!"

Sam's eyes grew wide and began to glisten. "You signed the permission slip for me to watch it last week."

"I did what?!" The Chevy rolled to a stop in the parking space in front of the motel room. He cut the ignition and turned in his seat, facing Sam. "We can talk about anything you have questions about. There is no reason for you to feel embarrassed about fainting or anything else for that matter," his eyes glancing down briefly to the backpack in the boy's lap. He understood what it was like to not have control over certain emissions...Hell, it hadn't been that long ago when he had started puberty himself!

"Let's just go inside. My head hurts," mumbled the man-child. He wrenched open the passenger door and stalked to the room. Dean followed, opening the door and entering first, as always. Once he made sure the salt lines were intact and all the protective sigils were unmarred, he waved for Sam to come in. With a huff, the backpack was flung to the ground next to the bed farthest from the door. Gathering his toiletries and an extra set of clothes, Sam stormed to the bathroom. Not a word was spoken before the door slammed.

* * *

Dean sat back on his bed, resting against the headboard. He heard the lock turn and the shower start. He corded his fingers through his spiky hair and inwardly cussed himself. He had tried to give his baby brother the childhood that was stolen from him. He had done everything possible to protect the boy's innocence for as long as possible. Numerous times he had fought with his father about taking the youngest on hunts. Each time, he had managed to bargain or negotiate his way with John Winchester, saving Sam from the knowledge that monsters are real, and by-the-way, our family hunts them down. Dean's first hunt was at the age of five. It had taken everything, but Dean had managed to give Sammy an extra five years. But just as the trees lose their leaves in the fall; Dean finally lost the battle over hunting two years ago.

Dean wanted so much for his baby brother. Everything that had gone wrong in his life, he swore would not happen to Sammy. It seemed like an excellent idea: protect him, shield him, be the buffer between the cold world and the warm purity of Sam's dimpled smile. Dean had succeeded in his mission thus far. At twelve, Sam wasn't exposed to smoking (legal or illegal substances), alcohol, or anything sexually explicit. Hell, the boy hadn't even really shown any interests in that area. Dean at the same age had been a different story…his first kiss was at the age of nine; he made it to third base at ten, on his eleventh birthday his fifteen year old girlfriend had given him on hell of a birthday present! Of course, Dean always looked and acted older than his years. It was easy for him to pass as a teenager, always tall for his age; he'd had a growth spurt at ten. He'd sprouted to 5feet 6inches tall. He stayed there until he hit thirteen when he grew another four inches. He would be seventeen in little over a month and hadn't grown since. Dean knew he had grown up too fast and refused to let that happen to the little dimpled baby he had carried out of the nursery fire all those years ago. Now, he began to question whether or not his shielding had done more harm than good. The boy had fainted during Sex Ed for crying out loud! Dean silently cursed himself for signing the permission slip to watch the movie in the first place. He should have realized that he wasn't ready for that. He also cursed John Winchester, the absentee father, who had once again left the burden of explaining one of life's mysteries on his teenage shoulders. Explaining the birds and the bees was a father's job, not a big brother's!!

* * *

Sam locked the door behind him. Had his father been with them, the small click would have been followed by the loud bellow of one John Winchester, "Don't you lock that damn door! If something happens to you in there, we need to be able to open the door without kicking it in! I'm not paying for damages like that again!"

But as usual, he was on a hunt. Sam looked into the sad, confused eyes in the mirror. The mature, intellectual young adult side mocked his confusion and trepidation. That side ridiculed his lack of common sense. Any rational person would not fear something that is a completely natural bodily reaction to visual stimuli. Humans, like other animals, have primal needs and urges. The immature, emotional child side cried. That side whimpered at the thought of the changes his body was going through. The child that had always been protected by his big brother began to tremble because this was something Dean couldn't protect him from, time stands still for no man.

* * *

The shower soothed his aching muscles. His arms and legs felt as if they were being pulled apart. His head throbbed and his neck was tense. He let the water saturate his wind-blown hair. The untamed tresses quickly became manageable as he worked the shampoo into lather. His skin of his scalp, like the rest of his body, was highly sensitized. It was as if a live current was surging through his cells. He took one of the cotton rags the hotel supplied and applied the body wash. Irish Spring was his favorite. It was a clean scent, not overpowering and it blended well with his deodorant. Recently he had noticed that he was beginning to sweat more than usual. In response, he began taking two, sometimes three, showers a day. Dean teased that he should change his name to Samantha, but he didn't care. Call him a girl, just don't call him smelly.

He noticed small changes in his body, things he hadn't noticed before. The 'baby fat' that had enveloped his waist was disappearing. He could feel muscles forming in his chest and shoulders. When he flexed his arms, a small bicep muscle began to protrude. He ran his hand across his face and felt the beginnings of peach fuzz on his chin and upper lip. He continued to wash, roaming lower. He could feel his body start to react and his curiosity peaked. He ran his fingers over himself and watched as his member lengthened and thickened with each passing touch. He wrapped his hand around his now fully erect penis and slid up from the base. A shiver coursed through his body as he ghosted over the head and back down. He continued with the motion, increasing his tempo as the intensity grew. Warmth pooled in his lower abdomen and his inner thighs began to quiver. Before he knew what to think, his body was shaking and he was overcome with euphoria as he experienced his first orgasm.

* * *

Dean was ripped from his thoughts when the bathroom door opened. Sam walked out in a pair of baggy sweats and a t-shirt. Sitting at the foot of his bed, the boy winced as he tried to towel dry his hair.

"You want me to take a look at it?" Dean queried. He was worried; the boy looked pale and drained of energy.

"Sure, but if I fall asleep while you are playing with my hair, don't get pissed," Sam smirked.

"Like I want to run my fingers in that rat's nest! Who knows what's living in there?! "Dean shot back. He grinned as the dimpled smile contorted into the trademark bitchface. He now stood before his brother, checking his pupils and inventorying the boy's appearance. He recognized the signs of entering puberty. The baby fat was slowly going away. Though Sammy still had a full face, the beginnings of a well defined jaw line and high cheekbones could be made out. His shoulders and chest had also started to fill out. A small laugh escaped Dean's lips as he noticed the new peach fuzz and the newly developing biceps. Baby Sammy was growing up. Dean blinked quickly and turned his head to look out the window when 'some dust' got in his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on either side of Sam's head. He began running his fingers through the hair, feeling for bumps, lacerations, and anything else abnormal.

Sam sighed contentedly. Dean's gentle ministrations were both relaxing and troubling. He tried not to pay attention to how close his brother was to him. He didn't want to see the way the tight, thin material of the t-shirt strained against his brother's well defined chest. He didn't want his eyes to trail downward, taking in the outline of the six pack abs and thin waist. Dean shifted positions and his shirt rose exposing a light pleasure trail. Sam closed his eyes, trying not to think of where those fine hairs led. The new position became torture as Dean's intoxicating scent assailed Sam's nose. He was painfully aware of the swollen erection that strained against his boxer briefs. A small groan broke through his clenched teeth.

"You okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" Dean flinched. He pulled his brother against his chest, attempting to soothe his pain. Sam weakly struggled to break free.

"I just want to lie down," he whispered. Dean released his bear hug and moved to turn down the blankets. He fluffed the pillows for his brother and stepped back, not wanting to hover but wanting to stay close in case Sammy needed him.

Once in bed and cloaked by the heavy blankets, the visible tension disappeared. Sam smiled up at his protector. "I love you, Dean. Thank you."

"I love you too, Sammy, but what are you thanking me for?"

"Just being you." As heavy lids closed on those puppy eyes, a peaceful smile formed on the pre-teen's face. The protector looked down at the sleeping form. No matter how things changed in the next few years, no matter how much he grew, Dean would always see the baby his four year-old arms had embraced. The sleeping boy was beginning his walk down the path to manhood, but Samuel Francis Winchester would always be Sammy. Why? Because he's Dean Freakin'Winchester, he's the older brother and he's always right.


	3. You say Tomato, I say Tomahto

When he passed out the older boys encircled him. Like ravenous hyenas, their laughter echoed as they pointed at his prone body. They took turns darting towards him, getting in his face, belittling him.

"What's the matter, Sammy? Girls scare you? Do you like boys better?" the tallest boy spat at him.

"I think your right…Little Sammy is a bitch…just look at his hair!" the Blonde sneered.

"Only a fruitcake would keep his hair long like that! His real name is Samantha. Aww, look! She's gonna cry!" a boy in a red flannel shirt and jeans barked. They all shrieked with laughter as Sam's eyes defied him and the tears trailed down his cheeks. He tried to get up, but each time another set of hands would push him back down. He turned onto his stomach and desperately tried to crawl away, only to be thwarted as the Tall Boy sat on his back and grabbed a hand full of hair.

"You know what happens to boys who aren't_ normal_, Sammy? They either learn to be_ normal_ on their own, or they are made to be_ normal_…" he whispered gruffly in the little boy's ear. Sam whimpered at the pain of being pinned beneath the much heavier boy and cried out when the Tall Boy cinched back on his hair, strands ripping from his scalp as he did.

"I don't think Samantha will see the light on her own…maybe we need give some incentive," the Blonde smirked. The glint in his eyes exposed his malicious intent. Flannel Shirt snorted in agreement. Sam's heart raced and his vision started to grey from the angle of hyperextension his neck was being held at.

"I don't kn…know what you mean…I jjj…just got sick to my stomach…" he stammered. Why didn't someone help him?

"Come on! We **KNOW** the truth! That guy that picks you up isn't your brother, he's your boyfriend!! You two look at each other all weird, like you have a secret. ..That's what it is…he's turning you into one of _**them**_! He saw how weird you are and now he's teaching you the ropes, huh?" Tall Boy scoffed. "That's not _normal_, Sam. It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!!" he snarled. Tall Boy smashed Sam's face into the tile with a nauseating crack as bones fractured. As he pulled the boy's head back for yet another strike, the blood pooled into his airway. He took in a gurgled breath as his head was forced forward, face meeting tile again. He looked up to see familiar figure racing towards him and was comforted. Dean, the one constant in his life, was coming to save him. He felt relieved and oddly detached, as if he were floating.

* * *

Dean hadn't gone to bed, nervously watching for signs the knock on the head had been more serious than originally thought. At the first whimper, he had bolted from his bed to sit by Sam's side. Brushing away the stray bangs that had fallen onto the sleeping boy's forehead, he had quietly begun humming an old, familiar lull-a-bye. It seemed to soothe the troubled child, but only for a moment. The nightmare quickly became intense. Sam started thrashing and Dean gently tried to rouse him with no response. Panic washed over the older brother as the youngest Winchester struggled to breathe. "Sammy!!" an anguished cry rang out. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and began to shake him. "SAMMY, WAKE THE FUCK UP!!"

Hazel eyes blinked rapidly. He stared up at the older boy, unable to shake the fear from his night terror. Bringing his arms up quickly, he tied to break the hold on his shoulders as he pushed with all of his strength. "Stop! I didn't do anything!" he called out. When the figure didn't move, he franticly tried to get away.

"Sammy, it's me, Dean. You were having a nightmare. Shhh…it's okay, you're okay," Dean quietly spoke. He pulled his baby brother into a warm hug as he attempted to pacify the scared little boy. He rocked gently, as he had done many times for a crying infant long ago.

"D'n? What?" a sleep-filled voice questioned. As the lethargic cloud lifted, Sam recalled the dreadful dream. He quickly pulled back, the word "boyfriend" ran through his brain in a taunting loop.

"You okay, bro?" anxiety tainted Dean's voice.

Sam looked at his brother, his protector, his rock. The worry that befouled the handsome face made his stomach churn with guilt. "I'm fine." He tried to make his voice as light as possible, the need to alleviate Dean's unease more important than his own confusion. "Just a bad dream."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. Just a dream. Go back to bed."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Alright. If you need anything, wake me up. I don't care what time it is, you understand?" Dean gave him the "that's not an option, it's an order" look that John Winchester had patented.

"Yes, Sir!" Sam chuckled as he gave a one-fingered salute.

"Bitch." Dean chucked over his shoulder, trying hard to sound disgruntled, but failing miserably.

"Jerk."

"G'night, Sam."

"Night, De."

Sleep overtook the eldest as his fatigued body hit the soft comfort of the mattress. Sam glanced at the resting form. His mind wondered as soft snoring filled the silence. He reflected on the nightmare and its possible meanings.

* * *

**_Normal_** was a foreign word in his family. What had the Tall Boy meant by "one of **them**"? Was he really that different than everyone else? Unable to sleep, he quietly got out of bed making his way to the living room. He pulled out the family laptop and began his research.

After many hours of research on the maturation process of male children and the sexuality of the human species, Sam was still just as confused as he when he started. Yes, he now knew all of the biological factors that figured in to the equation, but there was still something missing. He knew that the chemical reactions that took place in the brain when physically aroused created a "euphoric" feeling throughout the body. Yes, he understood that males were more apt to become aroused when visibly stimulated. He also knew that as a male hit puberty the sensory nerves became sensitive due to an increase in hormones which could lead to possible arousal at inappropriate times. All of these things explained quite a few of his questions. But what he hadn't found the answer to was the question: **What** made a particular sight or touch arousing? Why could one person look at a picture of a beautiful woman and get an erection, while another just sees a pretty woman? What made it so different? Why was it that he saw the beauty in both the female and male form?

Hearing a shuffle coming from the bedroom, he quickly deleted his browsing history, not wanting his father or brother to see what he had looked up. Closing the laptop, he pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to quiet the marching band that played in his head. As the shower started, he was relieved that he would have a few moments alone. AC/DC blared in the quiet, making him jump. He searched out his brother's cell, looked at the number, and quickly answered.

"Hello?"

"Sam, where is Dean?" his father's gruff voice reverberated through his brain.

"He's taking a shower. I'll get him."

"No time. Start packing. You boys meet me at Bobby's in three days."

"But dad, I like it here! Can't we stay until summer?" Sam whined.

"Boy, we stayed longer than necessary already. Don't question me, Sammy. I'm not in the mood right now. Meet me at Bobby's in three days, that's an order." The tone in his father's voice was the same tone he took when they were training. It meant, "I'm in charge here, I control the dice. You question me, and I'll put you on your ass quicker than you can blink."

"Yes, sir," Sam grumbled dejectedly. He never had a say in anything. If it wasn't his dad making the decisions, it was Dean. He couldn't wait to finally be a teenager, maybe then they would listen to him…

The constant drone of the dial tone stirred him from his inner musings. He flipped the cell closed and tossed it on the couch. He stomped to the bedroom and began jerking clothes out of the closet. Dean narrowly dodged a hanger as it recoiled and bounced off the bar as the angry boy yanked on a shirt.

"Hold up, tiger! What is going on?"

"Dad called. We have to meet him at Bobby's in three days."

"I figured we would be moving again soon," Dean sighed as he sat on the foot of the bed. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through his still damp hair. "That's what's got your panties in a wad?"

"Why do we always have to move? Why can't we just stay put for once?" he exclaimed. "Why can't we just be** NORMAL**?!" His voiced cracked on the word '_normal_' and Dean would have laughed if he hadn't noticed the look of desperation in the puppy eyes.

Dean stood and made his way to his brother's side. He put his arm around the kid's shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Look, kiddo, I know it is hard picking up and moving every couple of months. But we have to look at the bigger picture. What Dad does, what we do, is important. We help people, we save lives. Yeah, we give up a lot in order to do it, but would you rather we walk away and let people die because we want to be '_normal'_?"

"No. You know that isn't what I meant," a sullen voice replied.

"Besides, '_normal'_ is boring! Clark Kent never got Lois Lane, dude. He was normal. Nope, the hot chicks want Superman!" Dean laughed as he pulled his brother into a headlock and ruffled his hair. Releasing the giggling boy, he pushed him towards the bathroom. "Go wash up. We'll leave in about an hour."

"So, you're Superman then?" Sam laughed as he made his way to the bathroom for a shower.

Dean looked up from packing with a grin and said, "No, Sammy, I'm not Superman…**_I'm Batman_**!"


	4. Dirty Deeds

**A/N: I apologize for not getting this posted yesterday. My laptop started actining up and I could not upload anything. I tried to post a poll on my profile, but incase it didn't go up: Do you guys want a continuation piece for 'Purple Nurples'? Things are going to start to speed up in this one once the boys get to Bobby's. Just bare with the slower stuff, it has it's purpose. Also, if you review, I'll post updates quicker. (Incentive is a wonderful motivator!!) Thank you all for reading. I really do appreciate it. And as always, 'sigh', I do not own these pretty boys...Mr. Kripke still won't let them come play...that's just mean.**

"Hey, Sammy! I'm going to get our records from school. I'll be back in half an hour. Pack everything up and be ready when I get back," Dean yelled. When he didn't get a response, he walked to the bathroom door and knocked. "Sammy? Did you hear me?" There was still no response. He swallowed, trying to push his heart back into its proper position. Reaching for the doorknob, he noticed a slight tremor. He unsheathed the silver knife from his boot and slowly opened the door.

He took inventory of the small room. Nothing seemed amiss. Soiled clothing lay in a pile behind the door. A fresh towel hung on the bar beside the shower. Sam's toothbrush lay on the sink beside an opened tube of toothpaste. The smell of Irish Spring filled the air, fresh and clean, but there was an underlying scent he found vaguely familiar…he couldn't place the slightly musky aroma. He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by another gasp. Fearing for Sam, he quickly pulled back the curtain, knife raised to attack whatever was hurting his little brother…

"What the Hell?!" he barked. Ghosts, no problem. Werewolves, piece of cake. Hell, a damn demon would have been easier for him to handle. Sam jerking off…now that was an image that would give Dean nightmares for a very long time...

"GET OUT!!" Sam bellowed, his voice cracking and face flaming red. He yanked the shower curtain back to hide his nakedness and shame. The door abruptly slammed closed, marking Dean's hasty retreat. Sam's leaned his forehead against the tiled wall. His eyes stung with unshed tears and his member throbbed from the forced restraint. He turned the water off and stepped from the shower. Toweling off, he looked in the mirror. The boy-man looked back at him, disgusted. 'Dean saw you. You should have locked the door, you idiot!' he berated himself. He re-brushed his teeth, killing time. He couldn't face his idol right now. The look of horror on Dean's face had cut like the knife he'd held. If he saw that again so soon…he waited until another door banged closed. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom.

* * *

Driving to the school gave Dean time to think. He knew it had been just a matter of time before something like this would happen. He'd just assumed it would be Sammy catching him with his hand down his pants…or up some girl's skirt. Their life left little room for privacy. The tiny motel rooms and the dressing of wounds had left them both exposed on numerous occasions. But this…this was a private thing. The poor kid was probably scarred for life now.

He pulled into the parking lot and grabbed a manila folder from the passenger's seat. He glanced through it for the fifth time, assuring that he had the proper power-of-attorney for the Connelly family. He made his way to the front office for his brother's school records; his furrowed brow, the clinch of his jaw, and the frustrated glare burning in his green eyes warned, "Don't give me any shit right now."

* * *

Sam dressed quickly. He placed the dirty laundry in a bag to be washed and packed Dean's backpack as well as his own. He made a second round through the small room, verifying that there would be no traces of the Winchesters left behind. Trekking the bags outside the door, he glanced around yet again. Pulling his shirtsleeve over his hand, he wiped down the doorknob as he closed it behind him. Sitting on the curb beside the bags, he pulled his coat tighter and pulled his knees to his chest and waited for Dean to return.

* * *

Dean made his way back to the lot, a smirk gracing his lips. It never failed. A few well chosen words, a smile flashed in the right direction, and to finish, catching the secretary's gaze and holding it just long enough…despite his age, Dean never had a problem transferring Sammy's school records.

"Barney Fife" was making his rounds and was standing next to the Impala. Dean's blood began to boil and he quickened his pace. Just as the security guard ripped the citation out of his book, Dean was beside him. The man glanced up and jerked back quickly, obviously intimidated.

"Listen, douche bag…I am not in the mood to deal with your badge envy. I've told you to stay away from my car. This is the last time I am going to ask nicely**, get the fuck away from my car**!" he snarled.

"Now, you listen boy," rent-a-cop said as he stepped forward. That was all it took. The hunter's instinct took over. With one precisely placed fist, the man was sprawled on the concrete, unconscious. Dean kicked his legs away from his baby and stepped over the lump in the grey uniform. The Impala's engine roared to life, cursing the guard for his lack of respect. The commotion brought hundreds of eyes and ears to the windows for a closer look at its cause. AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds" blared from the car's open windows as Dean stuck his left arm out, raised his hand, and extended his middle finger.

* * *

The well practiced drive-by pick up was so deeply entrenched in the boys' psyche that it was a subconscious reflex...Dean roared into the parking lot. Upon hearing the engine, Sam bolted upright, grabbing the gear. The windows were down, prepositioned. He leaned over and opened the passenger door as he came to a California stop. Sam chucked the bags through the window and hopped in front, closing the door. The car rolled out in less than a minute.


	5. Unanswered Prayers

The brothers had been on the road for about five hours before a word had been spoken. Dean silently fumed at the rent-a-cop with an inferiority complex. Sam stared out the window, wading through the mental mud caused by the events of the past few days. The silence was deafening.

"Penny for your thoughts," Dean spoke. His calm voice broke through melancholy drowning the adolescent.

"Huh?" Sam blinked a few times, the deer in the headlight look overwhelming his man-child features.

"You've been awful quite, little man. Usually I can't get you to shut up," the elder chuckled. "So what's got your panties in a wad?"

Sam's face flushed crimson. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many answers that hadn't been supplied by the internet. For the first time ever, he was afraid to talk to Dean. He was afraid of being laughed at, of being looked at like a child. It took a man to be able to watch someone's back on a hunt. If Dean saw him as a little boy, he wouldn't be allowed to come with his brother. If he didn't go, there wouldn't be anyone to watch out for Dean. John sure as hell wouldn't do it. Sam was sure if it meant getting the Yellow-Eyed Demon, his 'father' would personally deliver one or both of his sons into the jaws of death.

* * *

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Sam squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw. He was a Winchester, dammit. Winchester's didn't turn away from their fears; they ran at them full force and punched the shit out of them!!

"I know you saw me in the shower," his voice cracked and he groaned in frustration. "Look, I know what puberty is. I know what type of changes I'm going to go through. But there are a lot of things that I don't understand. I want to talk to you, but I can't if you aren't going to be serious for once. So, please Dean, no jokes. No smartass comments or anything like that. I'm not a kid anymore. I know I'm not a 'man' in your eyes yet, but I'm not a baby either. "

Dean rigidly clutched the wheel. His knuckles turned white as he fought back the urge to pull over. He had tried so desperately to keep his baby brother carefree and innocent, that he forgot the most important thing…Sammy was growing up and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Dean remembered how difficult that stage between boy and man was. He remembered how insecure and awkward he felt. He understood anxiety caused by each new sensation/emotion. He remembered not having anyone to turn to for answers to his questions. The fact that Sammy didn't fully feel comfortable talking to him made Dean sick to his stomach. He refused to let his brother learn "the facts of life" by trial and error. He refused to let Sammy go through this alone like he had.

"I will never make fun of you for asking me anything, Sammy. I'm sorry if you felt that I would tease you about something that makes you uncomfortable. You're my little brother and I will always be there for you, understand?" Dean took his eyes off the road and stared at his brother, waiting for him to look up. Sam looked up at the earnest green eyes and knew Big Brother meant every word he spoke.

* * *

Quickly the tension lifted as the brothers talked. After four hours and a few blushing moments for the youngest Winchester, a few ground rules were set:

1. No matter what, regardless of place, time, or situation, they had each other's back.

2. If "alone" time was needed, the bathroom door would be LOCKED. If John had an issue with it, Dean would deal with him.

3. There were to be no secrets. If something was bothering either brother, the phrase "Let's go get a pop" would be spoken. This would let each other know that it was time for a talk.

4. If all else fails, refer to number 1.

* * *

They finally pulled over for the night around 3 a.m. They had made a ridiculously quick time and were already over half the way to Bobby's. It was a small, run-down motel in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska. By Dean's calculations, they would make it to Bobby's place in another 9 hours. He figured it would do Sammy some good to just relax before he was forced to spend time with their dad. The two fought worse than Ike and Tina.

"Hey…" Dean nudged the sleeping youth. The boy's face scrunched adorably as he mumbled something inaudible and turned toward the window. The elder Winchester's eyes took on a jewel-like quality as a mischievous glint sparkled in the emerald hued orbs.

He quietly opened the door. With lithe, cat-like grace, he silently crept around Impala to the passenger's door. With a smirk and silent chuckle, he wrenched open the door.

Sam's eyes shot open as his 'pillow' was pulled away from him. Attempting to save face, literally, he contorted his body at an awkward angle. He landed shoulders first, rather unceremoniously on the damp ground. "Oomph!" Winded by the rude awakening, Sam's mouth was trapped in a perfect O. The sound of Dean's laughter rang out in the early morning silence.

Quickly catching his breath, he glanced at to his right. From his upside-down perch, he could see Dean, crouched behind the door, swaying slightly with each cackle. He quickly pulled his legs from the seat, preparing for a quick getaway. Seizing the moment, Sam's hand shot out, gripping the older hunter's leather clad ankle. With a flick of his wrist, a surprised Dean landed: jean-clad ass first, into a squishy pile of what he hoped was mud.

* * *

"You little…!" Dean growled. He desperately tried to hide the amusement in his eyes. Sam's tinkling laughter and the sound of sneaker hitting pavement, spurred the teen into action. He scrambled to his feet, racing after his little brother.

"Jerk!" Sam breathlessly cried as Dean tackled him to the ground. His peals of laughter rose higher and higher as 'the tickle monster' attacked him.

"Bitch!" Dean snickered. He continued the onslaught, hitting every spot he knew would make his brother squeal. "Say it and I'll stop."

"NEVER!" Sam giggled. He could barely breathe and his ribs ached.

"Say it or I'll tickle you until you pee yourself!"

"No!" Sam struggled with all of his might, but Dean was stronger. The older brother grasped both of his wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head, continuing his onslaught one-handed.

Sam noticed the pink flush the sprint had caused on his brother's cheeks and the enticing sparkle laughter created in his jade eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat as Dean's muscles strained with the effort it took to hold him down using only one arm. He redoubled his efforts to break free when he felt the heat building in his groin.

* * *

Dean could feel his grip slipping. He would never admit it, but Sam was getting stronger. Not wanting to lose the upper hand, Dean threw his leg over his brother. He shifted his weight, effectively pinning Sammy between his legs. Sam freed his arms and attempted to push the larger boy off. His hazel eyes grew large and panic began to build in his chest as he felt himself grow hard.

Dean squeezed his thighs and pushed Sam's arms over his head again. His face was inches away from Sammy's. "Say it and I'll let you go," he breathed.

The younger Winchester swallowed trying to moisten his dry throat. He breathed in slowly, consciously making an effort to calm his racing heart. The scent of leather, motor oil, and Dean assailed his nose thwarting any attempt to reduce the ever growing bulge in his jeans. He ran his tongue over his lips, "OK! OK! I'll say it!" he cried. "Just get off me, you big freak!"

Dean smirked, "Say it first."

"Dean Winchester is the most amazing big brother in the whole world. He is my idol and I will always bow down in his overwhelming presence," Sam huffed.

"And?"

"Superman can't touch him. Batman imitates him. He is the one and only, the phenomenal, Captain Awesome Big Brother."

"That's right, Bitch. Don't forget it!" Dean chuckled, as he patted Sam's cheek. He shifted his weight back to gain his balance and Sam froze. The color drained from his face and he bit his lower lip. The feel of Dean against him was too much. He could feel the familiar tremor work its way up his inner thighs. He gasped and bit harder on his lip, praying that the pain would override the pleasure…


	6. Unanswered Prayers, Pt 2

**A/N**: I know this is a short one (lol, get your minds out of the gutter...), but I need to transition so the pace can pick up a bit. (Hey! Out of the gutter...wait until Dean's of age and Sam's a teenager at least!) Starts out in Dean's POV of the wrestling match. For everyone who has taken the time to review or alert, a million thanks. -Kat

Dean's senses were on high alert. Every sound was amplified. Every sight was clear even in the dim light. The slightest movement and it rippled through his bundled nerves. As he pinned his baby brother down, he could tell something wasn't kosher… The intense heat radiating from Sammy could easily be felt through the layers of denim. When the youngster's struggling became more difficult to restrain, the Winchester pride kicked in. Instead of letting go, as the big brother in Dean demanded, he heard the booming voice of one Papa John Winchester: "Never let your guard down, Boy! As soon as you let your guard down, people start dying. If Sammy sees you as a weakling, how in the Hell do you think he will respect you or trust you enough to have his back? He's your responsibility, Boy, don't let him down!"

With that, Dean tensed his thigh muscles effectively imprisoning his brother's legs. Using pure strength that belied his sinewy frame, he pinned the boy's arms over his head. There was nowhere for him to go and he would have to admit who the boss was…

* * *

The flush that burned brightly on Sam's cheeks sent Dean into full on "Take Care of Baby Sammy" mode. He shifted back to brush away the shaggy bangs that covered his little brother's eyes. Dean misinterpretted the glazed look of pleasure as one of pain as he saw the color drain from the boy's face. Hearing the quiet gasp escaping his sibling's mouth, he quickly shot to his feet, "What hurts? Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Oh, God, Sammy, I didn't mean to hurt you!" He fumbled for words as he wrapped his brother in his arms. He could feel the little boy trembling against his chest and his eyes misted. He had hurt his baby brother and that was unforgivable.

* * *

Sam shook his head. "You didn't hurt me. I'm okay," the crimson flush returning to his cheeks. He pushed himself away from the offending body. He quickly stood, pulling the hem of his hoodie lower and tweaking his jacket. He hoped to hide the dampness spreading through the denim on his thigh. He hurriedly stalked back to the Chevy, ignoring the concerned voice that called after him. Grabbing his bag, he called over his shoulder, "What room?"

With an exasperated sigh, Dean loped back to the Impala. "Room 213. Dude, what in the hell just happened? You looked like you were going to pass out?!" He lifted a calloused hand, brushing too-long bangs to the side, and checking for fever. "You were burning up. Are you sure you are feeling okay?"

The concern in the emerald eyes made guilt was over the pubescent boy. Rule number 3 echoed in his head, "No secrets…" The words taunted him as they echoed through his mind. How could he tell Big Brother what had happened??? "Oh, by the way De…I got a boner when you sat on me and then when you pinned my arms over my head…it just excited me like you wouldn't believe. Then I jizzed in my pants." Yeah, that would go over really well…

"I just got a little hot. I'm wearing a T-shirt, a hoodie, and this heavy jacket. I'm fine, honestly. I just want to hit the shower then go to bed. Ok?" he looked up, hazel eyes pleading. It was the look Dean often referred to as "the puppy eyes of doom."

"Ok, Sammy." Dean pulled his brother to his chest once more. The kid was going to cause him to have a heart attack one of these days. Sam hugged him back, enjoying the comfort and protection the leather-covered arms provided. The simple gesture cleared the cobwebs from his brain and eased the ache in his jigsaw puzzle of a heart.

* * *

Sleep was a welcome escape. After a quick shower, Sam dove into his bed and surrendered himself to the abyss. Once confident that the salt lines were adequately dispersed and the few sigils that could be drawn without unnecessary damage were placed, Dean retreated into the quiet of the bathroom. He showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed for bed. Grabbing the discarded clothing from the floor, a faintly bitter odor invaded his nostrils. The familiar scent caused his brow to furrow with concentration for a moment before the light bulb came on. Sam's expression, his reaction when they were wrestling…it made sense.

Dean dropped his head in shame. He should have realized what was going on. The pressure on a newly sensitized organ… No wonder Sam had been in such a hurry to get a shower and into bed. The boy usually wanted to stay up all night and watch crappy TV when their dad was away. The poor kid was probably too embarrassed to want to look at his brother, much less talk or sit next to him and watch late night programming.

"Why does this have to be so damn difficult?" Dean murmured quietly. He stepped from the bathroom and silently placed the soiled clothing into their laundry bag. He stole a glance at the mop of hair barely visible from beneath the comforter. "I'm here for you, Sammy. You just gotta tell me what's going on," he whispered as he sank into his own bed. Within minutes he fell into a restless stupor. His slumber filled with memories of his time of change, of confusion, of exploration, of realizing that nothing stays the same.


	7. This Little Light of Mine

**A/N**: Many, many apologies for the delay in posting. The RealWorld kidnapped me and held me prisoner until I did something so heinous, so gut-wrenching that I shudder to think of it....personnel evaluation ****AHHHHHHHH!**** Yeah, I was writing, just not the stuff I really wanted to write. So, to make up for that, this chap is going to be two parts and there will be PapaBear!John, Wee!chesters (really wee), Pregnant!Mary, Young!John (ooohhh, yeahhh), Concerned!Bobby, Dean, and Sam. Did I miss anyone...oh, some demons. Also, pay attention to the flashbacks. If anyone guess which one really happened this past weekend, I'll be your story slave. You chose: who, what, when, where and I'll make it come to life for you. It will only be a one-shot, unless it's just really damn interesting!!! So at the end of Pt 2, start sending me your guesses. Thank you all for being so patient! ***Smooches*** -Kat

* * *

The white lines of the highway blurred in his sleep deprived eyes. The hunt had taken a turn for the unexpected and he had been away from his boys for almost three weeks. While his overtly sentimental side had burned alongside his beloved wife, John Winchester treasured his time with his little men. The mile-high stone walls he had constructed to safeguard his heart were thick and opaque, yet one dimpled smile or the sparkle of laughter in a pair of heavy lidded emerald eyes would cause a minute fissure in the stone. From this tiny crack, a flicker of light could faintly be seen, and he would allow himself to let go of the all-consuming hatred, the need for revenge. For one brief moment, he wouldn't be numb anymore as he let the little light shine.

* * *

He jerked awake as the right front wheel met uneven pavement. Quickly correcting his course, John scrubbed a bloodied hand across his weary eyes. Exhausted both mentally and physically, he focused on the events leading to his current confusion...

* * *

The lead on The Demon had been a bust, but he managed to track down one of its cohorts. The lackey had possessed the owner of a Jujitsu studio and had literally tossed John's bulky frame as if he were taking out the trash. On his fifth meeting with the mirrored wall, the hunter's head made squared contact sending spiderwebs across the glass. Sinking to the floor, a long trail of blood was left in his wake. The demon chuckled at the sight and slowly stalked towards his victim.

"You are the feared John Winchester? This has to be a joke, right?" the parasite sneered. "Your twelve-year-old could put up a better fight than that. And the older boy, _hmmmm….the pretty one….Deannnnn_," the name oozed like honey from the vessel's mouth. A feral grin began to break loose. Eyes turn black, it crouched directly in front of the bleeding father. "_Now Deannnn, is the one I think is special. He's soooooo pretty, Johnny-Boy. Like his mother, huh? I wonder if his lips are soft like hers…if they taste sweet like your Mary's…"_

Before the demon could utter another word, a silver knife shot up, burying itself in the man's stomach. Rage boiled in John's veins, giving him strength. He pulled the demon upright with the knife. Using his own blood, he quickly drew a containment sigil on the vessel's forehead. The black-eyed freak shrieked as it desperately tried to smoke itself free.

"That Yellow-Eyed Son-of-a-Bitch might have taken MY MARY away from me, but I will be **DAMNED IF ANYTHING TOUCHES MY BOYS!!** You need to listen, you rotten-egg-smelling-cocksucker…I am going to make you **my example**. You're gonna be sent back to Hell when I'm through with you and you will **spread the word**: **_John Winchester is coming_**. Nothing in the world, natural or supernatural, will stop me from killing every last one of you fuckers. And rest assured, they will all know that it is your fault…I just wanted Yellow-Eyes…you know, 'eye for an eye' type thing. But you **_had to threaten my boys_**…"

The next two weeks were filled with empty space. Either fury or repulsion had caused John to block the images. He had 'come to' in an abandoned meat processing plant. Rusted hooks hung from the ceiling. Jagged, weather worn blades lined the table before him. The demon, or what was left of it, hung limply before him. Blood congealed into a pool where it had dripped from its toes. He stared in horror at the mangled and torn body. He looked down at his hand and began to shake at the sight of the reddish-brown coating that covered them. He grasped his phone and hit speed dial. "_Bobby…it's John. I need your help_…"

* * *

The exhausted hunter rolled down the windows, letting in the cool night air. He raced down the blacktop toward sanctuary, toward his boys. He smiled sadly as the memories of happier times flooded his mind…

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!" a blonde-haired, green-eyed imp tore around the corner. The four-year-old giggled as he was picked up and swung high in the air. He squealed with delight as his father brought him down into a hug, planting "monster kisses" on his cheeks and neck.

"How's your day, Ace? Did you take care of Mommy for me?" the handsome mechanic smiled. He sat at the kitchen table with his firstborn sitting on his knee. They both looked up as the shuffle of feet could be heard entering the room. Both faces lit up as a beautifully pregnant blonde woman waddled toward them.

"John Winchester, tell me you washed you hands before picking Dean up? Those overalls are brand new. That grit and grim you bring home doesn't come out with the laundry soap I use on the baby's clothes…" she groaned in frustration as she was abruptly cut off. The adorable boy jumped from his father's lap and placed his hands on his hips.

"I's not a baby anmore, Mommy! I's be a big buver soon, so u use big buver soap wit me cloves…" he pouted. His angelic face scrunched as he tried his hardest to glare. Behind him, John raised his eyebrows at Mary and shrugged his shoulders. He tried not to laugh at the little boy's determined stance, but a chuckle escaped. Dean hopped around in one motion, maintaining his "big buver" posture.

"I's not funny, Daddy! I's been sewious! Don' lafs me!!" he said in a much deeper, grown-up voice. Both parents gazed at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. Tears welled in the child's eyes, "I say don' lafs me…" his voice trembled then trailed off as his anger dissolved into humiliation. Little hand scrubbed at little eyes in a vain attempt to staunch the cascade. He hiccupped a sob and ran out of the room...


	8. This Little Light of Mine, Pt 2

A/N: As promised...Guess which flashback, you know the rest. ;) Smooches-Kat

Mary's face paled as she watched her little boy tear out of the kitchen. She slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs, her hand on her swollen belly. A quiet John placed a hand on her shoulder, gently kneading the tense muscle. He looked into her green eyes before turning to go find his firstborn.

He found the child tucked neatly in the back of the coat closet, his little body still shuddering with each shaky breath. Green, tear-filled eyes gazed up at the man. The gruff mechanic's heart melted when the child's lower lip began to tremble. He crouched down and wiggled his large frame into the confined space. Settling next to Dean, he pulled his son into his arms and hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry for laughing, kiddo. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I wasn't laughing at you. I laughed because you were being such a little man. I was surprised at how much you have grown up since you found out you were going to be a big brother. It made me very proud of you and I laughed because it made me happy," he murmured softly against the soft blonde hair.

"Yous not tink I's siwy? Yous not tink I's not growd up nuff to be good big buver?" Dean whispered. His breath hitching with the slowly receding tears.

The father's heart stopped for a brief second as the shock of his child's words hit him. Pulling the boy tighter against his chest, he tenderly wiped the tears from the apple cheeks. His eyes stung as he looked into the carbon copy of his wife's eyes. "I think you are going to be the best big brother in the whole world, Dean."

* * *

Scrubbing a grimy hand across his eyes, the Eldest Winchester felt the familiar sting of withheld tears. He'd been right. Dean was truly the best big brother in the world. Since the God-forsaken night of the fire, his little man had watched out for his baby boy. Though he remained stoic and offered little praise, John Winchester couldn't be more proud of his son.

* * *

"Sammy! Hey! Wakey, Wakey!! " Dean pulled the covers off his baby brother. He burst out laughing as the Chia Pet stirred to life. "Dude!!! You...You look…" he cackled. He bent over at the waist, clutching his stomach. He gasped for breath and tried to calm himself as the pre-teen slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Wha…De, what's so funny? Man, what time is it?" the growing boy yawned. His muscles ached and his arms and legs felt as if they were being stretched on a rack. He glared at his older brother as the laughter started fresh, sending the teenager to the floor. He tried to block out the howls as he headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Closing the door, he groggily looked into the mirror…"Holy crap!" he flinched. His hair was a nest of partial curls and waves sticking in every direction. Maybe his dad was right about that haircut…

He took a quick shower then brushed his teeth. As he examined his now tamed locks, he noticed the fuzz on his face was multiplying. He also noticed his first pimple… "Ugh…that's just perfect. Got to start a new school after New Year's and I'm gonna be the geek with acne and crazy hair…fan-freakin-tastic."

* * *

The Winchester brother's quickly stripped the room and got back on the road. They'd slept until 10:00 a.m. The rarity of the extra hours of sleep had put both boys in a good mood. They talked and joked, enjoying each other's company. Though there was a four year difference, they were best friends. They settled into a comfortable silence as the road stretched on.

Sam stole a sideways glance and smiled at his hero. The teen was lightly nodding his head in time with the music as his fingers drummed the guitar rift against the steering wheel. Sam let out a soft, contented sigh as he turned back towards the scenery. He was quickly lost in thoughts and memories of his older brother.

Sam admired Dean. He looked to the young hunter for guidance, for comfort, for support. Dean was his Rock of Gibraltar. The light shining in those jewel-like eyes was the lighthouse, always guiding Sam in the darkest times, always leading him to a safe harbor…

* * *

A chubby three-year-old with a crop of curls pulled against the strong hand leading him to the barber's chair. The buzz of the clippers made his ears ring and he gasped in terror as he watched the grey-haired barber take the shears to his older brother's blonde tresses. He raised his stubby fingers to his quivering lip as he stared at the growing pile on the floor.

"De k?" he questioned, his large hazel eyes peaking through the mass of curls. His voice was low, afraid that if he spoke louder it would spook the man with the buzzy thing and he would hurt his bubby.

"I'm ok, Sammy." The seven-year-old was reserved. It was the first time he had spoken since entering the shop. Without moving his head (he'd been told not to move his head…he understood how to take orders), he raised a small fist and extended his slender thumb up.

"All done, little man. You look sharp, just like a soldier!" the old man crowed. Though his hands were gnarled with arthritis, his touch was gentle and smooth. Dean looked in the mirror and smiled at the clean lines of the High and Tight…a Marine's haircut, just like Dad.

"You're next curly-top! Come on over," he patted the leather chair. Dean stood beside the chair and motioned for his baby brother. The little boy cautiously let go of his father's hand and teetered over.

"De hut?"

"No, Sammy. It didn't hurt," the big brother attempted to erase the baby's fear. It was his first haircut…

Sam's natural stubbornness kicked in as he saw the flash of scissors. He dug his heels in and refused to budge. John Winchester, tired of his youngest son being mistaken for a girl, grew frustrated. He made to pick the child up and place him in the chair forcibly, but was stopped by a small hand.

"I've got him, Dad."

He watched in awe as the little blonde crawled back into the chair and patted his lap. "Come on, Sammy. You sit with me and I'll make sure it doesn't hurt. I promise."

"De pwmise?"

"Yes. I always keep my promises, Sammy. Come on." He held his brother's hands as he climbed onto his lap and settled in. True to his word, it didn't hurt.

* * *

Dean smiled at his sleeping brother. Leave it to the kid to fall asleep thirty minutes before pulling into the junkyard! He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed on the accelerator. Thirty minutes, bah! He could make it in ten, fifteen tops. He enjoyed driving his baby fast, but more importantly…he REALLY needed to pee.

* * *

Bobby was eager to see his "adopted" sons. His last visit with John hadn't ended pretty. The old friends disagreed constantly in regards to how the boys should be raised. John wanted to take them on the road with him. Keep them on the hunt and always moving. Bobby argued that it was no life for a child and that any "good father" would set aside his own selfish need for revenge for the good of his kids. John had cruelly reminded the older hunter that he wouldn't know a good father from a bad father because he had no children of his own. Then he packed up the boys and left without another word. It had nearly broken the old mechanic's heart when the six-year-old Sammy had turned to wave out the back window of the Impala. His little hazel eyes shined with unshed tears as he mouthed, "Bye, Uncle Bobby."

When John had called for his help, his heart almost burst through his baseball cap. His first thoughts were that the idjit had gotten one of the kids hurt. John quickly reassured him that the boys were fine and they should be there soon. John had told them three days but knew with Dean's driving, it would only take two at the most.

Bobby immediately began getting the boys' room ready for them. Once he'd put clean linens on the twin beds and made sure there were extra towels, he did a quick inventory of his pantry and fridge. Seeing that he was running low on their favorites, he drove into town to stock up.

He made the rounds and picked up the "Winchester essentials". When he was satisfied with his stores he made his way to check out and suddenly stopped. He picked up a value sized bag of Nestle Milk Chocolate Chips and started to chuckle…He hadn't made homemade chocolate chip cookies in years…

* * *

"Please, Uncle Bobby? PLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSSSEEEE?" the little boy pleaded. "Just one handful? I've got small hands, there will still be enough." The boy was pulling out all the stops. He had tried the cute little voice, then the pouty lip. Now he was going into desperate mode.

"Now, Sammy, ya know that don't work with me!" the seasoned hunter growled. His voice was harsh, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. He noticed the taller blonde boy come around the corner. The boy now leaned against the doorframe with his patented smirk plastered across his freckled face.

"He's already whining? You know what comes next, Bobby…" Dean laughed. As if on cue, Sammy turned it on full force. He pulled his chin down slightly, creating just the right angle so he would look through his long lashes…the Puppy-Eyes of doom pierced the hardened hunter's heart and all his defenses crumbled.

"Aww, now why'd you have to go an look at me like that?" he groaned. "Come on, then. You too, Ace. But if ya ask for anymore, I won't be able to finish the cookies, got it?!" They nodded their heads in unison as they grinned from ear to ear. "Now git! I'll call you when their done."

They grabbed their treasures and skedaddled back to their room. There was quiet in the house for the first time in weeks. The injured John had come to his old friend's to recuperate and Bobby had happily agreed to keep the boys occupied. He'd enjoyed teaching Dean the inner workings of a carberator and helping Sammy with his Latin. It warmed his old heart to see those green eyes dance with happiness and the dimpled-smile light up the room.

* * *

"So when did you become Betty Crocker?" a gruff voice spoke. Looking up, a pale, limping John came into the room and sat at the table. "Are those for me? You shouldn't have, dear!" he smirked.

"Oh, shut up, ya idjit. They are a reward for the boys. Dean put a carburetor together perfectly in ten minutes and Sam recited Psalms 23 from memory…in Latin." He chuckled as John's eyebrows lifted with surprise. "If they just had some stability, those two would be a force to be reckoned with…"

Before John had the chance to retort, Dean came running into the room. "DAD!! Sam…" he panted between hysterical laughs. "Sam put…"

"Spit it out, Dean!" John yelled. Dean's eyes were watering in his mirth. He couldn't form words as he pointed at his brother who had just entered the room. The young boy's eyes were wide with fear as he breathed through his mouth…

"Der stuk," he said stuffily. Bobby dropped the bowl with the remaining cookie dough. He doubled over and crowed with laughter until tears ran down his face. Dean was now on the floor leaning against the wall, gasping for air.

"What in the hell were you thinking?" John muttered as he shook his head. "What possessed you to make you think it was okay to stick chocolate chips up your nose?"


	9. Unforgiven

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent guesses about the real flashback. I am working on your stories (you guys have AMAZING creativity!) This is one of the shorter chapters, but the next one will be much longer. Thank you again! Smooches- Kat**

The rumble of a familiar engine made Bobby stop putting the groceries away. He opened the front door and stood at the screen. He watched as the black Chevy stalked down the gravel drive. It had barely rolled to a stop when the driver's door flew open. The teen driver made a mad dash towards the house. Bobby opened the screen and stood back…

"Hey, Deuce! How's the drive?" he asked as the young man flew past him. He laughed as he heard a door slap and a relieved groan. He chuckled as he made his way towards the classic vehicle, shaking his head. "Too much coffee…"

He smiled as he looked through the window at a sleeping Sam. The poor kid looked exhausted. Not wanting to wake the boy, he gently opened the passenger door. He quickly positioned himself so Sam wouldn't be disturbed. With the tenderness of a grandfather holding his newborn grandchild, he lifted the boy from seat. Making his way into the home, he let out a quiet groan. "Boy, you've gotten big since last time I did this…either I'm old or you need to lay off the fast-food…"

* * *

By the time Dean washed his hands and exited the bathroom, Sam was upstairs in his bed, their bags were brought inside, and Bobby was in the kitchen. Dean made his way to inspect the fridge.

"Got any coffee made, Bobby?"

"I think you need to lay off the coffee, son. Here, I made you a sandwich and a glass of milk. Then you're getting' your butt in that bed," Bobby barked. Though the tone in his voice was harsh, his eyes sparkled.

"Bed?! It isn't even 9 o'clock! I'm not a kid anymore. I don't have a bedtime, B," Dean smirked. He knew he would hit the hay soon, but he just didn't want the old hunter to think it was due to his "order". The only person he let tell him what to do was his dad.

"Boy, don't make me swat your tail like I did when you were little!" he growled. He had missed loving banter. Winchester men didn't say the L word or let people know they had feelings…no, they made smart-ass remarks or called you names.

Dean quickly wolfed down the sandwich and gulped the milk. He placed the dishes in the sink and began to make his way towards the stairs. He turned his head and smirked.

"Come on, Gramps! You would have to catch me to do that and we both know that ain't happenin," he chuckled. He dodged the coffee can flying at him. He winked at the red-faced Bobby before running upstairs.

* * *

John sighed with relief as the sign for "Singer Salvage" came into view. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. The big truck rumbled down the dirt road, rocks pinging off the undercarriage. He smiled when he saw the Impala; his boys had made it safely.

He parked next the Chevy. Hands tightly gripping the wheel, he leaned forward and rested his weary head on top of them. Taking deep, steadying breathes, he gathered what strength he still had. He managed to drag his exhausted body across the lawn, up the stairs to the door. He knocked and patiently waited for his old friend.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice barked from behind the door.

"It's me, Bobby, John." His voice was a low croak. The door opened and a sawed-off shotgun greeted him. He held up his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"Christos."

"See, it's me."

"Well, get in here, ya idjit." Bobby opened the screen, lowering but keeping the rifle aimed at the man before him. "Drink this." He handed a shot glass to the man. There was no smoke, no screaming in agony, as he downed the holy water.

"Anything else you want to check? Got a silver knife?"

"Yup. Prove you're not a shape-shifter, and I'll put the gun down."

John took the dagger from his friend and ran it across his forearm. A shallow cut formed and blood welled up and onto the blade. He winced slightly as the image of flesh being filleted from bone flashed through mind.

The older hunter closed the doors and locked them. He placed the rifle in its rack and led the fatigued John to the kitchen table. When he was sure the obviously distressed man was comfortable, he took his own seat.

"You look like hell. Are you hurt? You're covered in blood," he quizzed. Concern scrunched his face as he searched for visible signs of injury.

"I…I don't think it's my blood," John managed to moan before fell from his chair unconscious.


	10. Day the Music Died

A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm working on about 5 different things right now, but will make every attempt to wrap them all up and update again no later than Saturday. I'll actually have a day to myself with no distractions! Thank you all again. Smooches.

Bobby quickly rushed to his friend's side and discovered the man had been partially right about the stains. There were two noticeably different types of blood. One was the normal, coppery color that was so obviously human, while the other had dried into an unnatural, blackish-red hue. The distinctive smell of rotten eggs faintly clung to John's stiff, blood crusted over-shirt. Quickly connecting the missing pieces, Bobby unceremoniously ripped at the demon-fouled clothing. Seeing the broken skin of numerous lacerations, he swore quietly.

"Damn fool!! Of all people, John, you should've known better," he cursed as he managed to heft the larger man over his shoulder. How he managed to carry the dead weight from the kitchen to the bathroom would forever be a mystery. Sitting his one-time pupil on the side of the tub, he drew a warm bath. He finished undressing the eldest Winchester, tossing the tainted garments in the trashcan.

With a keen eye that would have made Sherlock Holmes envious, Bobby scrutinized the wounds covering his fellow hunter. Many were deep enough to require stitches, had they been treated properly. From the various states of infection, it was evident that they were at least a week or two old. One and two inch cuts riddled the man's body. A few had formed scabs while others had been ripped open further with movement. The hair in the back of John's head was matted with caked blood. Gingerly palpating around the area, Bobby sighed when he found no evidence of fracture.

After making a cursory assessment, his concerned attention was quickly refocused on the most severe of the injuries: a jagged gash running from behind John's left ear, down the side of his neck, curving over the collar bone, and stopping just above his heart. The edges were an angry red that had started to creep forward in little fingers. John winced as Bobby prodded the tender skin. The black, fetid drainage that began to ooze from the ripped flesh confirmed the experienced hunter's suspicion.

He turned off the water and knocked on a panel in the wall beside the towel rack. Slowly, a hidden drawer slid from the wall. With one hand still steadying his ailing comrade, he used the other to remove a pistol, loaded with silver bullets.

* * *

Dean had woken upon hearing the familiar rumble of his father's truck. Silently, he crept from his bed and dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Stalking down the stairs, he'd stayed out of sight, observing the two older hunters.

Seeing his hero, bloodied and haggard-looking, put the teenager on edge. His hunter's instincts (and protective intuition) screamed that something was not kosher… Sure, he'd seen his dad hurt plenty of times, but this was just different. Perhaps it was the downtrodden way the man's shoulders hung or the shaking in his strong hands that initiated the unease bubbling in Dean's stomach…but it was the broken, despondent vacancy in the usually hyper-vigilant eyes that made the boy rush to the bathroom. After emptying his stomach, he splashed cold water on his face. He took several deep, calming breaths.

He knew the day would happen. On numerous occasions, he had prayed that Sammy would be able to know the man who had read him bedtime stories and helped him sneak pieces of his mom's freshly baked pie. For years, he had desperately clung to a small string of hope…a prayer that his father, Mary's husband, would not be consumed by the fire of revenge… After seeing the look in his dad's eyes, the young man knew that he was now past the point of no return...His father had left to go after a lead on the demon that killed his mother. Dean knew enought about demons to understand that they needed a human vessel to be able to walk on the Earth, that they usually held innocent men and women against their will inorder to do so... The blood encrusted man who had come through that door was John Winchester, Demon Hunter…killer. Dean's emerald eyes glistened with unshed tears. He struggled to accept that John Winchester the Father was now no more than a distant memory.

* * *

Bobby continued to riffle through the drawer of goodies until he located it. Raising the Blessed Rosary to his lips, he quietly began to chant in Latin. Making the sign of the Cross, he threw the Rosary into the bathtub effectively creating holy water.

"John…John," he tried to rouse his friend. When the closed eyes fluttered open, Bobby grabbed the stubbled chin, locking gazes. "Listen to me. This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but we have to do it. Do you understand me?" A slight nod was the only response. Steeling himself against the inevitable struggle, Bobby turned the man toward the water and quickly pushed him in.

The contaminated wounds began to smoke upon contact with the holy water. John's eyes flew wide as the pain shot through him. He looked at Bobby, eyes pleading for an explanation for the agony.

"The clothes were soaked in demon blood…it leached into your wounds and they need to be cleaned before it spreads," Bobby tried to be reassuring, but he knew this was just the beginning. The minor cuts quickly 'burnt out' and that pain stopped.

"All good now?" John asked, managing a weak smile. He grimaced when Bobby's face became grim.

"No, John. I'm sorry," he croaked around the massive lump in his throat. Before John had a chance to say a word, the old hunter grabbed both shoulders and pushed him beneath the surface of the water.


	11. Father Figure Pt 1

The days passed. Christmas for the Winchesters was spent eating chicken and dumplings, cramped together on Bobby's worn couch while the old hunter spouted curses as his football team miserably lost their final game of the season. No gifts were exchanged, at least not material possessions.

The weary father pours another cup of caffeine and made his way upstairs towards his sons' room. Silent, unnoticed, he leaned against the doorframe and smiled. His eldest was patiently teaching the younger how to properly shave.

* * *

"Now, you have to make sure that you use warm water to wet your face before putting the shaving cream on. It helps to soften up the hair to get the closest shave with the least nicks. With those dimples, you're gonna have a helluva time," he smirked, emerald eyes twinkling in the pale bathroom light. The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes and pursed his lips.

"If you're going to pick on me, I'll ask Bobby to show me. Hell, I'll just grow a beard!" Sam snapped.

"You grow a beard, and Dad will have your ass! You're lucky you haven't woken up with a buzz cut," Dean chided. To set the example, he moistened his face and lathered on the white foam. He gestured for Sam to follow suit. The boy-man begrudgingly did as instructed.

Dean expertly wielded the ultra sharp barber's razor. An antique by modern standards, it had been a gift from John and no other razor ever got half the results. He deftly skimmed away the lather, not a single cut on the handsome face. He rinsed, and then patted his face dry with the hand towel.

"Did you see how I did that? Move with the grain. If you go against it, yeah you'll get a closer cut, but you'll also get one righteous case of razor burn!"

Sam's hazel eyes flickered from the mirror to his brother. The man before him was the essence of beauty. Handsome was too weak a word to describe the stunning features. Sam could imagine Michelangelo cursing the marble that would become David for not being as exquisite as his brother. An unbearable urge to touch the smoothness of that face overcame him and before thinking, the back of his hand gently stroked the defined jaw line.

A suspicious hiss pierced through the silence as he reflexively flinched. Experience had taught that a hand to his face was rarely accompanied by gentleness. The distrustful expression on his chiseled face quickly softened as green eyes locked with hazel.

Seeing the apparent distress his touch had brought, Sam hastily pulled back his trembling hand. The texture of his brother's skin, of the satin drape covering the marble work of art, singed his fingertips. The all-too-brief contact had etched itself forever into his memory and on his heart.

Dean blinked. Once, twice…more so to clear his own mind of the oddly confusing and exhilarating sensations that Sam's touch had caused. He rapidly dismissed the feelings, writing the twinge of pleasure off as a consequence of not having a steady "study partner" for over a month. Focusing back on his little brother, the hurt look in the boy's eyes melted his heart. The poor kid just wanted to see what freshly shaved skin was supposed to feel like…here he was acting like he'd been stung by a bee or burnt with a cigarette. He grabbed the small, shaking hand and brought it once again to his cheek. Running it down the side of his face, along the jaw line, and under his chin, he smiled at the adoring light sparkling in the innocent eyes.

"See what I mean? If you go with the grain, it's smooth like a baby's butt! Now, you try." Letting go of the no-longer-short-pudgy fingers, he placed a razor, new and identical to his own, in the twelve-year-old's hand. The boy paled as he raised the sharp, glinting blade towards his face.

John watched the interaction silently. His heart swelled with pride and love. Sammy wasn't the rolley-polley little baby that laughed and cooed anymore. He was on the cusp of being a man. Dean…Dean had never really been a child, just a man in a smaller body. Always the protector, always the mentor, he had been the one to teach young Sam good behavior and conduct. Dean had been and would be the one to teach Sammy how to be a good, strong man.

With a sigh, John pushed himself away from the door and made his way to the room he'd been occupying. He began to pack his meager belongings. Once finished, he pulled a blank page from his journal and began to write. The decision he had been struggling with was finally made. Though he hated to admit it, Bobby was right. Dean was a better father to Sam than he could ever be.


	12. Father Figure Pt 2

John left in the middle of the night. He'd just up and left without a word to anyone. No good-bye, no explanation, not even a kiss my ass. Bobby was pissed at Winchester's lack of respect for his sons, but hid his disapproval from the boys. He quietly fumed and cataloged ways to repay one John Winchester for every hurt he put those children through.

Dean had tried to call with no response. After the fifth day, running low on cash and short on patience with his brother's incessant reminders that the winter break would be ending soon and they needed to start school, Dean had pulled the older man aside.

"Bobby…um…I don't know if Dad's coming back. He's never done this without talking to me first. He didn't leave…" the boy's face was mix of anger, disappointment, shame, and fear. "He didn't leave us any orders, Sir."

The usually calm stillness that exuded from the young hunter was shattered. The characteristic overconfidence was missing from the cool green eyes. The last time Bobby had seen the uncertain look dwelling there now had been on a little blond four year old who wouldn't let anyone come near the baby in his arms.

Putting a weathered hand on the young man's shoulders, Bobby looked him in the eye, "You boys always have a home here, Son. And don't call me sir…I'm not that damn old!" He cuffed Dean lightly on the back of the head before wrapping his arm around the boy's neck. "Now, let's find out where you boys will be going to school…" he chucked as Dean moaned. At least Sammy would be happy.

The make-shift family had quickly gotten a back-story and supporting documentation together. Dean and Sam Singer were Bobby's orphaned nephews. He'd become their guardian after an unfortunate car accident. No one seemed to question or truly be concerned and for once, Dean found himself thankful for the dismissive attitude of the over-worked, underpaid, and underappreciated educators.

* * *

Transferring mid-year always frustrated Sam. He hated not being up-to-speed (usually ahead) of the class. While it usually didn't take him long to catch up, he didn't like drawing more attention to himself. Being shy and the new student with crazy-hair already opened him up for unbridled torture and ridicule…the painful kind that only hormonally charged adolescents can inflict. He was a bundle of nerves when he'd been told they were staying with Uncle Bobby for a while and had started doing pushups, pull-ups, and ab work to relieve his nerves.

The tension pulling the boy's shoulders would have snapped a logging chain. He absentmindedly fidgeted with the hem of his too tight t-shirt, blowing at the stray bangs that kept falling onto his forehead. Had he realized that his pubescent body would thrive on the added physical activity, he would have found something else to distress. In the few short weeks since Christmas, he'd sprouted like a weed. At least two inches taller, his pants were now too short. The rapidly developing muscles in his chest and back strained the fabric of his t-shirts. He tried to wiggle his toes, but his shoes were now at least a half-size, possibly a size too small. He wanted to ask his brother if they could get a few new things, but felt guilty. He knew their dad hadn't left any money and that their being at Bobby's had quadrupled the man's grocery bill. Dean had a wickedly fast metabolism and if he didn't eat something every couple of hours, he would drop weight like nobody's business. Sam had intentionally started eating smaller portions to even out his brother's consumption. Little did he know, Dean had been doing the same.

The combination of physical activity and decreased caloric intake was like a magic eraser. The final traces of his baby fat had started to disappear. He was shaving every other day as the peach fuzz had started to darken slightly.

The screen door opened and banged shut, startling the youngest Winchester. Looking up, Bobby smiled and made his way into the kitchen. Sam settled back into his quiet reverie, tugging slightly at the worn shirt in an attempt to cover the button on his jeans.

* * *

Dean had made his way down the stairs unnoticed and watched his brother. The kid seemed lost in thought, unaware of his surroundings or the fact that two pairs of eyes followed his every move. The boy's changes hadn't gone unnoticed. Dean bit back a chuckle as Sam's ankle flashed when he adjusted himself on the couch. High-waters…Poor kid was a big enough book nerd, all he needed now were some dark horn-rimmed glasses held together by tape and a pocket protector. If he became president of the chess club, Dean decided they would have to do DNA testing to make sure he truly was his baby brother and not some changeling…

"Hey, Bobby, you making coffee?" he projected. The older hunter flinched slightly, spilling the scoop of coffee grounds on the counter.

"I was until you made me spill the last of it, nimrod! If you're gonna sleep 'til noon, the least you could do is be a good housewife and have my damn coffee ready for me," the grease covered mechanic grumbled with artificial scorn. A feisty grin light up his tired face.

"For your information, it's only 9:30! And if anyone is the housewife here, it's Sammy. He's the one with long hair," Dean chided. The young boy on the couch looked up, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

"I…uh…I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I should have thought about that while you were working. Let me clean the mess." He jumped up and hastily made his way towards the now quiet men. Both exchanged glances, with Dean mouthing "WTF?" when Sam turned his back to grab a wet cloth.

"You feeling okay, Sam?" Bobby asked. Knowing the Winchester motto of "Ignore until it disappears", the hunter doubted he would get a straight answer. He watched intently as the boy stepped gingerly, as if his feet were sore. When Sam slightly leaned down to avoid the cabinets, a light bulb went off for both men…

"Well, boys, I'm gonna get cleaned up and then we are all heading to town. Dean, can you drive? My truck needs a tune up and none of the other cars are in working condition." He winked at the elder brother, who responded in kind.

"Not a problem, B. I'll get some real clothes on instead of these pajamas. Sammy you gonna change too?"

Sam solemnly shook his head. The clothes he had on were the only ones that remotely fit. The others were even smaller.

"Why not? That shirt is at least a size too small and those pants are way too short. Go on, go change," Bobby called over his shoulder as he slowly made his way towards his bathroom.

"None…" the words were mumbled and spoken in such a low tone that they couldn't be understood.

"Couldn't hear you. What was that?" Dean prodded.

"None of my clothes fit me anymore, Dean." Sam's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He hung his head in an attempt to hide behind the mop of hair.

"Well, we will just have to fix that, won't we? You boys be ready in twenty minutes. I'd wipe that smirk off your face, Deano. You are in need of some new clothes too. Looks like you've put on the baby fat Sammy's losing, " Bobby called out as he went up the stairs. He chuckled at the bothers, both of whom had looks of shock on their faces. It was as if they had never both had new clothes at the same time. Shutting the bathroom door, Bobby understood why… As he turned on the shower, he snorted, "Damn you, John Winchester."


	13. Sharp Dressed Man Pt 1

**A/N**: I am soooo sorry it has taken me this long to update. Murphy has been after me lately. (You know, Murphy's law: anything that can happen, will...) I haven't stopped any of my stories and hope to be able to post a couple of them tomorrow. Again, I can't make any promises 'cuz Murphy is a sneaky bastard. He's the Gordon to my Sam...lol.

Sam sighed in the backseat. He shifted uncomfortable. _"These damn jeans are cutting me in two!" _he thought to himself. He silently wondered if it would be the Goodwill or the Salvation Army they were going to get "new" clothes from. His heart quickened when they approached, then passed the second hand stores. Were they going to Wal-Mart? That luxury was usually only afforded when new work boots were needed. When they passed the sign with the big white block letters, his face contorted into a mask of confusion.

"Ummm…Dean, where are we going?" he stammered. He'd never been to an actual clothing store. Name brands didn't exist in the world of the Winchesters.

Dean turned in his seat. Those mesmerizing green eyes declared his own uncertainty. Before the older brother could utter a word, he was cut off by a gruff voice.

"You boys deserve to start a new school well dressed. Hell, in my day, the way a man dressed spoke volumes about his character." Bobby looked at the rearview mirror, eyes focusing on Sam. "You two are fine young men, and I'll be damned if either of you walk around looking like hoodlums while you live with me, got it?" Though his tone was course, his eyes twinkled. Truth be told, he was as keyed-up as the younger brother. He'd always wanted children of his own and the Winchester brothers were Singers now. Whether they liked it or not.

* * *

The Impala cruised into the mostly empty lot and found her resting place. Upon getting out, Sam walked ahead of the older men, eager to see what was available in the outlet stores. He'd never been to a strip mall, much less bought those coveted "name brands" his friends always wore.

Dean smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. He turned and placed his hand on the older hunter's shoulder. "You don't have to get me anything, Bobby. This place is expensive and I'm good. You let me know how much you spend on Sammy and I'll make sure you get back every cent. I'll get a job and help out around the house with the bills too," he spoke in a low whisper. He didn't want to ruin Sam's mood or have his brother feel guilty for getting things he needed and deserved. He couldn't hide the shock when his hand was roughly shaken off.

"Now you listen, boy," Bobby spat. His voice was gravely and menacing. "You aren't gonna get a damn job, you already have one. And you're not gonna pay back a damn penny," his nostrils flared. The steely look in his eyes quickly stopped the argument dancing on Dean's tongue. "You two have worked your whole lives and haven't had a chance to be kids... I know, I know…you're not a kid. Haven't been since you were four, but you know what? Just 'cause that's the way things are, doesn't mean it's the way things should be! If John had listened to me back then, you and Sam would've been able to finish school in one place and would never have had to be introduced into this God-forsaken life. But he didn't and now here we are." He pulled a crinkled envelope from his pocket and held it out for Dean to take. "According to that, I am the legal guardian for you and Sam...That means, you will follow my rules and I get to make the final decisions on what is best for you two. Here are the rules: 1) Your only job and responsibility while you live with me is to make damn sure you bring those grades up. Besides making sure Sammy is alright, your only priority is for Dean Winchester to be the outstanding student and upstanding man I know you can be. 2) You will not work during the school week. If, once you've shown me that your grades are on track, you want to get a job, it will be weekends only. 3) I am not your daddy. I'm not going to try to be. You boys mean the world to me and I'm pissed as hell at John, but I am your friend first and foremost. I expect you to talk to me and to let me know if there are things you boys need or if there is something I can do to help. I will respect you and I expect respect in turn. Are we clear?"

Dean was completely awestruck, unable to look away from the paper in his hands...legal and binding, the document had his father's signature on it and was dated two days after he'd left: guardianship papers. The mind-numbing confusion of why mixed with the heart-stopping pain of being thrown away. The resulting grief bled from his misty green eyes as he looked at his friend. "Yes, Sir. All clear." He managed to mumble through the numbness.

A sympathy pang gripped the older man's heart. His eyes softened as he gently patted the young hunter's cheek. Placing an arm around the boy's slumped shoulders, he mustered all of his acting skills. In an attempt to lift the weight that burdened Dean's shoulders, he chuckled. " Chick-flick done. Now, can we catch up to that brother of yours? Kid's like an over-excited poodle. I just hope he hasn't whizzed on the floor."

* * *

The afternoon passed with the usual. Dean teased Sam about his "geek" clothes and not being able to get a girl with them. Sam scolded Dean about his "wanna-be biker-thug" attire and the poor impression they made. Bobby grinned and watched the two do what they did best…

* * *

Laden with bags, Sam and Dean Winchester pummeled their way through the screen door and up the stairs to their shared room, an excited and loving war of words being exchanged the entire way.

"Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes. Get washed up and then come on down," Bobby called after them.

With bellies filled of BLT's and French-fries, the three friends headed to bed. It was late and there would be an early customer at the garage. There were three days until school started and "Bobby's rules" set in. Dean was going to make the most of them by helping out with the cars while Sam cleaned up inside.

A warmth crept through the old building as each man fell into a contented slumber. As if it could feel the peacefulness of the inhabitants, the house settled as well.

"Old man Singer's house" disappeared that night. Left in its place was something much more vibrant and alive: the Singer Family Home.


	14. Sharp Dressed Man Pt 2

A/N: Sorry for such a long time in between posts. After a bracing, yet anonymous review, the Muse was a little pissy. Constructive criticism is welcome, but if you're gonna blaze me, have the balls to create a profile so I can respond. I'm not a total bitch, and if there is something legit in a review, I actually take it to heart and try to correct any issues. But if it's a moronic, "I hate this" or "you're writing stinks" I'm gonna ask some questions. I don't want reviews to strock my ego, I want reviews that will help me become a better writer. So for you, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous, yeah, I deleted you're negative crap. If I could have responded to you, well...can't say it would have been very nice. Reviews are welcome. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Haters and flames, not welcome. If you snap at the dragon, be prepared to get your ass burned.

BTW, Please read the disclaimer on my profile...it pretty much tells you the types of things I write about. Don't like, don't read. Thank you all who have stayed with me so far. Luv u guys!!

Kat

* * *

"Sammy, get out of the car!" Dean bellowed. He'd been outside the passenger door of the Impala for ten minutes. He'd tried everything from being the understanding big brother to pleading with the stubborn boy. Now…now, Dean was just pissed. "Get out of the car, NOW! So help me, Sam, if I have to break that window and drag your skinny ass out of it, I WILL DO IT!! Now quit being such a little bitch and come get your hair cut!!"

"NO! I don't see why I have to get a haircut just to go to school tomorrow! When have we ever had to get haircuts before starting a new school?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at his big brother. He was milliseconds away from pulling out the big guns when he noticed a change cross the young hunter's face.

"Bobby wants us to look respectable, kiddo. I think getting a haircut is the least we can do for someone who has opened their home to us," Dean said in a syrupy voice. His face was the picture perfect image of innocence and sincerity, eyes wide and slightly glistening. He managed to hide the smirk as his brother's resolve broke…Sam wasn't the only one who knew how to control a situation with a simple look.

* * *

With a sigh and a forlorn glance into the visor mirror, Sam lowered his head and opened the door. Peering through messy bangs at his big brother, he took a deep breath, "I'll get a haircut on one condition…"

Dean chuckled. Sam could argue with a log. "Name it and let's get going," he dismissed as he turned toward the barber shop. The old, tin signed creaked in the breeze. He didn't know if it was the sound of metal on metal or the deal he'd just struck with his baby brother that made chills run up his spine.

"You have to wear what I say to school tomorrow," Sam smirked as he quickly walked past. He giggled as he heard the footsteps behind him stop. "You agreed. If you renege, I won't get a single hair cut for the next year," he tossed over his shoulder as he entered the rustic shop. Sitting in the worn leather chair, he could vaguely hear Dean through the closed glass door.

"SONUVABITCH!"

* * *

"DEEEEAAAANNNNN!! We are going to be late!!" Sam complained. The tinny pitch echoed up the stairs and caused the teenager to cringe.

"Forget it, Sam!! There is no fucking way I'm going anywhere looking like this!!" Dean snarled. The deep timber of his voice, the venom dripping from the words made the younger brother's smirk fade.

"Please, Uncle Bobby…it was his part of the deal." Using his best theatrics, the hazel eyes started to glisten with crocodile tears. "I can't go back on my part, so Dean shouldn't be able to call off his part." Sam threw in a quivering lower lip for good measure.

"Dean Winchester!! You get your scrawny ass down here right now! If you make your brother late for his first day at a new school, I'll take the keys to the Impala and you won't get them back for two weeks!" their guardian growled. Though his voice was harsher than it had ever been with one of the boys, the corners of his eyes crinkled with repressed laughter. Those two and their damn negotiations…

* * *

With a mortified groan, Dean took one last look in the mirror. Ruffling his hair, rolling his sleeves, and unbuttoning the top two buttons, he grinned. He could totally rock this look. If Sammy was going to force him to wear this pansy-ass-I-still-let-my-mom-pick-out-my-clothes outfit, he was going to have to add a touch of Dean to it…

Sam nervously looked at his watch. A force of habit, he raised his hand to his face to push away the stray bangs, only to find that there were none. Running his fingers over his much shorter coif, he exhaled a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The hair on top of his head was still longer than his father would've approved of, but it wasn't long enough to hide behind. The anxiety of not being able to hide behind his security blanket was making him irritable. Hearing footsteps casually coming down the staircase, made Sam's head shoot up. A smile dimpled his smooth cheeks. He slightly nudged Bobby's side to get his attention. He merely grinned and pointed to his brother.

* * *

Where Sam had held back his laughter, Bobby's could not be contained. The sound of deep laughter and gasping breath filled the living room. Quickly grabbing a camera, he snapped off a series of pictures…

"Dude! What the hell?" Dean blinked at the flashing bulb.

"I had to have proof of this! None of the other hunters would ever believe me!" the mechanic chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "Who woulda thought the Almighty John Wincherster's first-born would be wearing that!"

* * *

Sam appraised his brother. It was nice to see the older boy in clothes other than t-shirts and jeans. His eyes lingered on the slightly exposed chest and neck. The muscles in his brother's jaw twitched and Sam desperately wanted to know why…

Clearing his throat, Dean glared at Sam then turned towards his old friend. "Ok, Bobby…enough with the laughing. Sam, get your crap and get in the car."

Dean tried to be intimidating. He'd been told that his eyes could be both beautiful and scary depending on his mood. He fixed a heated look at Bobby, but the old man just laughed harder. Doubling over to get a seat, Bobby finally settled enough to speak as he lowered himself into the rocking chair.

"Deano…I'm sorry for laughing, but it's too damn funny! Dean Winchester, demon hunter, wearing a button up shirt and a white tie…" he huffed. He was out of breath from the run outside.

"Drop it, Bobby."

Lifting himself up, he grasped Dean's shoulders. Looking intently into the emerald eyes he coughed to keep from having another laughing fit. "Just remember, son. Only real men wear pink!"


	15. Sharp Dressed Man Pt 3

A/N: Things have been hectic beyond imagine. My muse is currently completely wrapped up in an AU that I'm writting and it's really hard to get it out of my head. I'm hoping to finally finish it and publish it soon so I can finish the other things I've been working on. (Damn muse must have ADD or something.) I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited. Ya'll are just awesome. (To be honest, I'm flattered beyond words and just hope that I can continue to entertain you. *wipes eyes* Damn pollen count must be high.) GG, Gett, Ah Raina, Kady, and Ibbett...I'm sending you all good dream vibes of chocolate-covered Sam/Dean with a bit of Cas sprinkled on top...hehe...You motivate me more than you know. Now, enough of my g

* * *

An uneasy silence settled over the brothers. The ten minute drive to school stretched into eternity. Dean tugged at the white tie nervously while Sam anxiously combed his fingers through his cropped hair.

Shifting his eyes from the road to his little brother, Dean noticed the changes he had tried to ignore. The boy had sprouted like a well fertilized seedling. Now, at least four inches taller, the growth spurt had stretched the prepubescent "pudginess". The androgynously innocent baby face now showed the distinctive beginnings of masculinity. A firmly defined jaw line set the precedent for the other developing features. Smooth, youthful skin skimmed over high cheekbones. The vibrantly expressive hazel eyes were framed with dark, thick lashes. A faint dusting of stubble rested above the youth's Cupid's bow. Those rosy lips looked as soft as satin. When a light pink tongue snaked from between them, leaving a faint sheen in its wake, Dean's mind began to wonder…

The growing tightness in his already uncomfortable slacks brought Dean crashing back to reality. Snapping his eyes forward, he white-knuckled the steering wheel and took a few deep, calming breaths. In need of a distraction, he turned on the radio; Firehouse's "I Live My Life for You" assaulted him from the speakers:

**_"I've built my world around you and I want you to know_**

**_I need you like I've never needed anyone before_**

**_I live my life for you_**

**_I want to be by your side in everything that you do_**

**_And if there's only one thing you can believe is true_**

**_I live my life around you"_**

The words swirled in his mind, making his heart thump in his chest and a sad ache start to grow. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he let out a loud sigh. Turning the radio off, he cast a sideways glance at his Sammy. "Lousy music. What happened to the good stuff? It's either alternative, whiny crap or sappy, chick crap," he joked. When Sam looked up at him with a dimpled smile that had not reached his sad eyes, Dean's stomach flip-flopped. He cleared his throat and pulled in front of Sam's school. "You want me to come in with you to check in?"

Sam gave a small shake of his head, grabbed his bag, and got out. Before closing the door, the young man leaned down and gazed at his brother. "Thanks, Dean, for everything." He quickly shut the door before he could hear his Dean's reply and rushed into yet another day as the new kid at school.

Watching his lanky brother, son, best-friend hurry into the building, green eyes glistened briefly. Pulling out of the school, Dean started to hum. It may be a chick song, but sometimes the lyrics really nailed it…

* * *

Sam hated being the new kid. He had always been on the outcast. His off-brand clothes, small stature, and being placed in "gifted" classes did nothing to help his need for acceptance. The constant moving made it virtually impossible to join any extracurricular activities, to build any true friendships…

Shifting his backpack, he smiled as the familiar scent of Dean wafted from the worn leather draped over his broadening shoulders. He chuckled at the image of his hardnosed brother in the pink button-up and white tie wrestling with him to get the jacket on…

"_Sammy, the only way I am going anywhere outside of this house wearing freakin' **PINK** is if you at least wear this! If I have to look like a complete pansy, then you at least need to take some of Winchester machismo with you…one of us **HAS** to keep the man-card today!" _

Breathing deeply, he pulled the material tighter. A sense of peace and comfort embraced him as he lifted his eyes from the floor and squared his shoulders. Dean expected him to man-up and come hell-or-high-water, Sam wouldn't let him down.

* * *

The day passed relatively smoothly. There were the usual stares and awkward glances, but he didn't shy away. As if Dean's confidence was somehow transferred with the jacket, Sam made direct eye contact with any and all lookers. When the P.E. teacher and soccer coach approached him, asking if he would be interested in a starting position on the team, he enthusiastically said yes.

When the final bell rang, Sammy, the little boy with the quiet smile and downcast eyes had disappeared. A young man, jaw set with determination and eyes filled with conviction, walked out of the building. Sam Winchester opened the door to the classic muscle car and took his seat. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he caught his reflection in the mirror. Maybe Bobby was right…the clothes do make the man.


	16. It's Been a While Pt 1

**A/N: I just wanted to clarify the time frame we are looking at right now: the boys have been at Bobby's roughly 2 months. (Sam has changed that much in 2 months? Yup, it's realistic. Has anyone ever witnessed a boy's growth spurt? It's almost overnight!) Sam is still 12: pre-teen, pre-pubescent. Dean has just turned 17. If I confused anyone, I apologize. It was clear in my mind...**

**Things are going to go a little AU for a bit- nothing major but in order for it to fit into my storyline a few things need a little shifting. Plus, I've never really liked the idea of Dean being a drop-out. I mean, he's smart as all get out and I don't think he is ever given enough credit for that. (Plus he plays the clueless role so well. I think it's just so Sam will do the boring stuff!) And the time line will be speeding up really quickly. I need to get Sam to age 16 so I can finish writing a particularly steamy scene without feeling like a pedophile. lol.**

Cocky, confident, the boy all girls wanted and all boys wanted to be, Dean had never experienced the nervousness his youngest brother did when transferring schools. That is, until he had to show up in a freakin' pink shirt, white tie, and khaki pants. He silently cursed that he hadn't thought to pack a change of clothes.

Pulling into the high school parking lot, he quickly got out and went to the trunk of the Impala. Wishing for a miracle, he rummaged through the large space for discarded clothing. He'd rather wear dirty clothing than pink. For the first time in 17 years, he worried about what others would think. He paused as the realization washed over him…it was his birthday.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he noticed an inconspicuous brown bag. A small card was taped to the side with his name printed on it. Cautiously he poked at it, knowing it hadn't been there yesterday. When it didn't move, start ticking, or blow up, he took the card and opened it.

_"Happy Birthday, boy. Don't let this go to your head, but you're a man now. It's not much, but it's your first birthday at home. Gotta start somewhere. –B"_

Dean scrubbed at his eyes and cursed the dust in the trunk for making his eyes water before opening the bag. A dark, hunter green sweater was neatly folded inside. It was thick, warm, and unbelievably soft. The Dean Winchester smirk made its first appearance of the day as he slipped it over his head. The collar of the hideous pastel pink button-up peeked over the neck of the sweater, but the two contrasting colors made a stunning display.

Dean took a look at himself in the driver's side mirror. The pink accentuated his fair complexion and the green of the sweater made his eyes stand out behind thick lashes. While he never would have chosen this outfit for himself, he had to admit…he could have been pulled from a J. Crew ad.

* * *

Standing straight with his head held high, Dean made his way to the front office. The usual cocky swagger and wall of ego was geared down a few pegs. A single word from Bobby's card had brought back a warm feeling to his heart. A feeling that he thought had died in the fire with his mom. He felt like he belonged. He felt home.

Like moths to a flame, people swarmed the new kid. He was handsome yet modest, funny, polite, and smart as a whip- all things the old Dean Winchester had never cared to show at his other schools. But Dean Singer was a different boy and he wanted a different life. The walls he'd built to protect himself had transformed into windows. He let them see who he really was, but still kept a barrier between them. Regardless of how good things were at the moment, part of him still remembered the Winchester Luck.

* * *

The day passed quickly. The guidance counselor administered his placement tests and was completely amazed. His test scores were phenomenal. He met every requirement for early graduation from the high school. His math, physics, and chemistry scores were high enough for sophomore college level. The counselor fumbled through the boy's transfer records and was disappointed to find that no one had tested the young man's IQ.

"Dean, there is one more test that I would like for you to do. It will take one hour and the results will need to be sent to another agency. Those results should take about two days to get back."

"Okay, sir. I have to pick up my little brother at 3:30; will we be finished in time?"

"I have no doubt that you will," the man said with sincerity. "And Dean, the students here are allowed to call me Craig. Mr. Donovan is my father and sir is too formal," he grinned.

"Yes, sir…I mean, Craig," Dean blushed. "Some habits die hard."

* * *

The sleek black beauty crawled to a stop in front of Sam's school. Dean was waiting as the boy made his way through the maze of students. There was a different air about him. Dean noticed that his brother's eyes were up instead of downcast as was usual. The pre-teen looked happy and was that a touch of swagger in his step?

Dean grinned and opened the passenger door, "Sammy! " he called as his sibling scanned the area looking for his ride.

Sam smiled and jogged to the awaiting car. Dean had slid behind the wheel and the engine was purring. Shutting the door behind him, Sam's dimples were in full force. "I have so much to tell you, Dean! It has been an awesome day."

"That's great, kiddo! You can fill me in while we head home."


	17. It's Been a While Pt 2

**A/N: I'm sooo sorry for the long wait. Life has hit me hard the past couple of months. Things might still be hectic for another week or so, but I hope to be able to get back on track with updating. I want to thank girlyghoul and Gett for being absolutely amazing friends. We haven't met, but I owe you so much. In one of my saddest times, your words of encouragement were just what I needed to get me out of my dark place. Thank you doesn't begin to cover it. I hope to meet you one day and buy you a Purple Nurple! **

"Dean Singer, please report to Mr. Donovan's office. Dean Singer, to Mr. Donovan's office," the voice crackled over the intercom. With heat flushing his cheeks, he glanced around as the other kids snickered and whispered. He gathered his books and quickly made his way out of the classroom.

Accustomed to being called to the office when he was in trouble, the teen recounted the past week in an attempt to pinpoint what he was going to be punished for. Despite his best efforts, Dean couldn't recollect what he had done…

* * *

Sam smiled shyly at Ashley, the quiet blonde in his English class. The lunch bell rang and instead of rushing out to find a secluded place as routine, he dawdled as he packed his things. When the last few students left the two studious pre-teens alone, he nervously bit his lip.

"Umm…Ashley?" his voice cracked. He looked up through his bangs when the cute girl turned towards him. "Would you eat lunch with me?" He blushed and flashed his dimples.

"Really?" she questioned. He was so cute and she was just plain and a geek.

"Yeah…I'd like it a lot." And it was done…Sam Winchester, aka Singer, had his first "date".

* * *

"Please, have a seat, Dean." Craig Donovan's face was a blank mask. The man didn't look angry or upset, he didn't look happy either. Dean knew he hadn't done anything wrong and was bristling. He wasn't going to let his time at this school be like the many others before.

"Listen, Mr. Donovan, I don't know what this is about, but I didn't do anything…" a hand cut him off in mid sentence.

"Dean, please, it's Craig. And you aren't in trouble," he chuckled. "As a matter-of-fact, your IQ test results came back, and you've tested beyond any expectations. Your score was 171."

"So, that's good?"

"GOOD? Dean, Einstein's IQ was 160... Son, you don't need to be wasting your potential in high school. I have talked to the principal and the school board, we all agree that you should be allowed to take the finals early, receive your diploma, and get started on your college career. We are all willing to help you with any applications and once your transcripts are complete, we have it on high authority that there will be a few academic scholarships that will cover your costs." Craig was more excited than Sam when he learned how to go wee by himself. "So, what do you think?"

"Well…that's just…I…have you mentioned this to my uncle? "

"No, Dean. I assumed that you would want to talk about this with your uncle before any final decisions are made. Of course, he will have to sign any official documents as you are still a minor. If you would like, I can call and arrange a time to come to your home and discuss everything."

"No. I'll talk to him when I get home." Dean rose to leave and stopped. For the first time since his mom died, someone had taken notice. Someone had seen potential beyond that of a good soldier. Someone besides Bobby had cared. He turned back to the older man. His voice was thick with barely restrained emotion as he quietly said, "Um…thanks." He didn't wait to hear a reply as he quickly shut the door behind him leaving a stunned counselor behind... Making his way down the hallway, he decided that he didn't want to wait to talk to Bobby. Silently, he exited the school and toward the Impala.

* * *

Sam and Ashley found a table away from the other students. A comfortable silence settled between the two as they ate their lunches. Sam looked up from the mystery meat on his tray to catch Ashley's eyes on him. She blushed and looked away when he flashed his dimples.

"So…um…what do you do outside of school? Do you play any sports or anything?" Sam asked before taking a drink of water.

"I volunteer at the Veteran's Home on the weekends and I play tennis. Being in the Honors classes kind of makes it hard to be in many clubs. I have to study a lot to keep up my grades. How about you? "she replied quietly.

"I was asked to try out for the soccer team. I think it would be a lot of fun. I haven't been in the area long enough to get involved in many clubs. I think it would be great to volunteer like you do." Sam noticed her eyes light up and he leaned forward to listen.

* * *

Dean couldn't help grinning as he sped towards home. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled his heart. He held his head high as he made the turn down the dusty road to Singer Salvage. Life had done a complete 180 and he couldn't be more pleased. Where there was once a never ending road filled with potholes, brambles, and barbed wire, now lay a seemingly smooth highway. Sure, there would be the occasional speed bump but those would keep him on the right path. Where there had been the endless hunt and an almost certain death at a young age, now lay endless possibilities and living to a grayed twilight. He couldn't wait to tell Bobby his news. The first Winchester to go to college! Or to be more exact, the first Singer to go to college.

Driving down the gravel road, his excitement fizzled. John Winchester's truck was parked in front of the Singer homestead. A wave of anxiety crashed over him. John was either badly hurt or had come to take the boys back on the hunt. Neither option was favorable...

Sammy had blossomed with the stability brought by Robert Singer. The timid, socially awkward geek-boy had made a few friends. He'd actually pulled himself out of the books and awakened to the life of a pre-teen. Much to Dean's amusement and horror, Sam had actually tried to discuss girls with him. The conversation was both painful and hilarious. The big brother in Dean had teased the younger, while the protector tried to discuss "personal safety". It had been an awkward conversation that ended with a blushing Sam and Dean laughing so hard he'd almost pissed himself. It was all progress in Dean's eyes.

He parked the Impala and took in a deep breath. Resolving to do whatever it took to keep the new life Sam had made safe, he squared his shoulders and approached the front door. His outer appearance was stoic, eerily calm, a condemned man facing the long mile. On the inside, butterflies were having a fiesta that he hadn't been invited to.

Tension filled his body as he made his way into the kitchen. Seeing John sitting upright at the table with a steaming cup of caffeine and Bobby looking as mad as a wet cat, he knew what was coming. Regardless of what name Dean went by, the Winchester luck hung like a black cloud over his head. He would never get away from it. Come hell or high water, Dean would give whatever it took to make sure his Sammy had the choices that were so beautifully presented to him, only to be cruelly taken away.


	18. Can't Always Get What You Want

Listening to Ashley speaking about playing checkers and chess with disabled veterans and WWII soldiers had made Sam forget the time. The lunch bell's shrill call quickly broke the quiet reverie. Both blushed a bright crimson when they realized their hands were linked. Sam jumped to his feet, knocking Ashley's books to the floor. As they stooped to gather them, they painfully bumped foreheads.

"Ow! Geez, I'm soo sorry, Ash! " Sam clamored. Ashley looked into his concerned, puppy eyes and grinned. She raised her small hand and brushed his bangs from his eyes.

"I'm fine, Sam. Thank you for having lunch with me." She hastily gathered her things and leaned over planting chaste kiss to his lips. "I hope we can do it again tomorrow." She rushed to her next class, leaving Sam glassy-eyed and dazed. A grin broke across his face as he dashed to his next class. He couldn't wait to tell Dean…he'd finally been kissed!

"Dad…" Dean quietly greeted. "Bobby, everything okay?" He pulled out a chair and planted himself between the two hunters. He carefully schooled his features waiting to find out what the hell had brought John back from his odyssey.

"What are you doing home from school so early, Dean?" Bobby asked. His face morphing from pissed to concerned in a fraction of a second. John Winchester be damned, those boys were his!

"Nothing that can't wait. So, what's the special occasion? Did pigs start to fly or has hell frozen over?" He was asking his surrogate father, but staring his biological one down. The man had given up his right to just pop in whenever. They finally had a life…a good one, and he wouldn't give it up without fighting tooth and nail first.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Boy! I'm still your father!" John growled. His fists were clenched and his face was beet red. The tale tell signs were already showing…the drill instructor was about to come out.

Any other time, Dean would have shrunk back. Never would he question his father's motives, but that was before. Before had Dean realized that John didn't look at them as sons, just as pawns in never-ending game against the Yellow Eyed Demon. "Some Father! You left us without as much as a kiss-my-ass, John! Now you come back for what? We have a life now! We have a family, friends! Hell, Sammy is finally coming out of his shell. Why are you here and what will make you go away?"

"Dean…your daddy wants you boys to come back on the hunt with him," Bobby said through clenched teeth. The vein on his temple pulsed beneath his cap. His temper was barely being contained.

The chair clattered to the ground as Dean sprang up. "BULLSHIT! HELL NO! You can't do this to Sammy!" he roared. The echo stunned both elders. With lightening fast reflexes, he grabbed the eldest Winchester by the collar and pinned him against the wall, forearm pressed against his windpipe. "You listen to me…you can't screw this up for Sammy. I WON'T LET YOU."

Bobby wrestled with the two, finally pulling the furious young man from his father. A mother bear had nothing on Dean Winchester when it came to his little brother. "Both of you idjits sit down NOW!" he barked. Dean righted his chair and sat. John rubbed his throat gingerly and sat on the edge of his seat.

"Dean, you boys aren't safe here," John started.

"Safe? So we are safer driving across country at all hours of the night, hustling pool, and living out of skeevy hotels than we are in a home protected by every protective ward and sigil known to man with one of the best hunters that ever lived? You've got some brass balls!" Dean screeched.

"Both of you, STOP! John, if you want the boys with you so badly, why did you leave them here in the first place?" Bobby questioned. The silence was answer enough for Dean.

"You just don't like the fact that we are actually thriving here! You are jealous that Bobby is a better father than you!" Dean's voice was like gravel. Before anyone could speak, he was on the floor with John standing over him, a bruise blossoming on his cheek as his eye began to swell.

"You sanctimonious little shit! I've done everything that I could to protect both you and Sam! I left because I knew I was tainted by that damn demon. I left because I didn't want to put you two in any more danger! All I've ever wanted was for you two to have a normal life, but I'm sorry that I ruined that by hunting the demon that killed your mother! I'm sorry that I've been hunting down the evil shit that is in the night, that I've trained you two to protect yourselves, that I've saved hundreds of lives by sacrificing everything I've ever wanted! "

Tears glistened in Dean's eyes. He stared the man before him. Sacrifice. Everything was always a sacrifice with the Winchester family. He pulled himself to his feet and straightened his jacket. "Sammy will have what I couldn't, Dad. If you absolutely have to have us come with you, it will be on my terms. Sammy gets to stay the entire school year. He will finish high school here. We will go with you during summer break. I will come with you on the difficult hunts, but Sammy doesn't get involved. He needs to focus on school. I'll work with Bobby and get another job in town and send you money as you need it. Got it?"

"Only if you make sure Sammy keeps up with his training. When he gets old enough to make his own decisions, he needs to be ready," John conceded. He looked at his worn boots and sighed. Dean was right. He'd never win Father of the Year.

"Deal. Bobby, I'm going to go pick up Sammy. If it's okay with you, I want him gone when we get home. Sammy doesn't need to know about any of this. Is that understood by everyone?" Dean glanced around the room. Once he was sure of their acquiescence, he turned to walk away. He stopped at his father's shoulder, "We will act normally around Sam. I won't question you in front of him, I won't argue with you in front of him. But if you ever try to take this away from him, or you ever attempt to lay a hand on him like you just did me…I will put you in a coma. That's not a threat. I'm making a solemn vow. Do you understand?" His jade eyes were flat and emotionless. A nod was the only answer he received.


	19. I Kissed a Girl

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. A special thanks to girlyghoul, Ibbett, and Gett. You guys are the best and I hope you know how much I appreciate ya'll. I know this is a short chap, but I got stumped on transitioning to the next part. We will be flashing forward to the summer next update. I hope you enjoy. -Kat

The rest of the day was a blur. Sam couldn't stop thinking about Ashley, about the all-too-brief kiss. He hadn't had a chance to even respond, not like he knew how. He'd never kissed anyone. Well, aside from sloppy toddler kisses that didn't really count. He was off in dream land when the final bell rang. He'd spent the entire Algebra class thinking about the mechanics of a kiss. What made a kiss good? Was it the pressure applied, the shape of the lips? Thoughts of breath mints and Chap Stick were dancing through his mine when the Impala roared to a stop in front of him.

Dean seemed tense; his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His jaw was clinched tight and Sam thought he could almost hear his teeth grinding.

"How was your day, Sammy?" Dean asked, faking a smile.

"Um…good. Are you okay? You seem kinda stressed. Is Bobby okay? Did something happen at school?" Sam questioned as he buckled his seatbelt. He half turned to face his big brother, his hazel eyes large and filled with concern.

"Nah, it's all good, kiddo. So, tell me about your day. Anything exciting happen today? " The car crawled forward, engine growling at the slow space of the soccer moms and their mini-vans.

Sam blushed. "I had lunch with a girl."

"Really? What's she look like? Blonde, brunette? Oooh, a redhead? Redheads are hot! Tell me about her." Dean waggled his eyebrows naughtily.

"Deannn…it's not like that. She's a really nice girl. Her name is Ashley. She's kinda on the quiet side. Pretty blonde hair and really great greenish eyes. We spent the entire lunch time just talking. I accidently knocked her books off the table…when I tried to get them for her, I knocked her in the head…" Dean's chuckle interrupted Sam's tale. Sam glared at his brother. "It's not funny! Fine. Just be an ass. I'm done." Sam crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. So much for asking advice from his brother.

"Aww, Sammy. Don't be like that. I'm sorry, man. I didn't me anything by it. You gotta admit, though, that's something out of a Monty Python movie!"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I guess it was kinda funny…then she kissed me. She tasted like cherries...I liked it" The last few words were rushed and quiet. The blood rushed to his face and he shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Dean to start the teasing.

"She wha? Did you say she kissed you? Way to go! Hell, I didn't kiss a girl at school until I was 14, dude. You little dog!" He playfully punched his sibling in the arm.

"I didn't kiss her…she kissed me. "

"What do you mean? It's the same thing. Kissing is a bit of a two-way street. "

"Do you promise not to laugh?" he asked and waited for Dean's nod. "Well, she kissed me. I guess I just sorta froze. I didn't know what to do. I mean, what should I have done? Am I supposed to keep my lips closed or open? I had just eaten lunch. Oh, God! What if my breath was rank? What if she thought I was a complete doofus and never wants to speak to me again. I really like her. I'm such a loser." Sam looked down at his clasped hands waiting for Dean's usual taunts…but they never came.

Dean's heart clenched briefly. He remembered how awkward his first kiss was. The girl, Tiffany Williams, had braces and had cut his lip. When they'd broken the lip lock, both looked as if they'd been sucking on a cherry popsicle. Swapping spit: cool. Swapping blood: not cool. He grimaced at the memory.

He looked over at his brother and clapped him on the shoulder. "I bet she was just a nervous. I can't tell you what to do, Sammy. You just have to go with what feels good. Nobody knows what to do the first few times. But practice makes perfect! And besides, you're my brother...and Winchester's are like chocolate: all the ladies love us!" He was rewarded with a dimpled smile. He cranked up the music and they drove home without another word.


	20. Happy Birthday, Baby Boy Pt 1

A/N: Another short chap. Couldn't forget Sammy's birthday...

The next few months of school flew by in a whirl of stolen kisses and secret smiles. Ashley's parents were very strict and Sam's idea for going to the movies had been shot down repeatedly. So the young couple had made due with spending their lunches together, joining in the same afterschool clubs, and if Dean happened to drop Sam off at the same time Ashley was doing her volunteer hours…well, that was completely coincidental.

Sam's birthday was quickly approaching and Dean had a few ideas in mind. He adjusted his collar, checked his teeth, and smoothed his hair. He was the picture of the future college student. The light green polo shirt was well suited for his complexion and brought out the green in his eyes. His khaki pants were well fitted and accentuated his slim waist. His brown belt matched his brown loafers. He felt like a dork, but for Sammy, he could play the part.

He made his way up the walkway and knocked on the door. A pretty woman wearing a light blue dress and sensible heels opened the door. Her perfectly coifed blonde hair was the color of cornsilk and her skin was like peaches and cream. He cleared his throat and swallowed. "Um…Mrs. McAdams? I'm Dean Singer, Sam's older brother. "

"Hello, Dean. What can I do for you?"

"Well…umm…Sam's birthday is this weekend. I was wondering if it would be okay for Ashley to come to the movies with us. It's a bit of a tradition for us to go to the movies on his birthday. I'll be the driver and chaperone. I'll make sure that Ashley is home by 11p.m. Would that be okay?"

"Dean…Ashley's father and I have specific rules regarding dating. She isn't allowed to date until she's sixteen."

"Would it really be considered a date if I'm with them? It's more of a get together. I'll make sure they aren't by themselves. I'll keep my eye on them, I promise." He flashed his patented grin and tried his best to look responsible and trustworthy.

"You will not let them out of your sight. You will have Ashley home no later than 10:30. Do we have an understanding?" Her voice was stern and she cocked her eyebrow for emphasis.

"Yes, Ma'am." He shifted his weight, making to leave, when the woman let out a sigh.

"I know you think we are probably too strict, but it is hard. We lost Ashley's older sister in a car accident a few years ago. She was coming home from a date when a drunk driver it them head on. It probably seems foolish, but whatever we need to do to protect our little girl, we are going to do it." The sorrow in her eyes was almost palpable. Grief can cause the most loving person to become fiercely overprotective, to the point of overbearing.

"I understand. I know what it feels like to need to protect your family. Sammy's all I have left. I'll take care of Ashley the same as I take care of him." The earnest look on the young man's face was all the guarantee she needed.

"I trust that you will, Dean. See you Friday." With a small smile, she closed the door quietly.

Dean made his way back to the Impala and released the breath he had been holding. A little more drama than he had realized, but it had all worked out in the end. Sammy would get the date he wanted, on his birthday at that.


	21. Happy Birthday, Baby Boy Pt 2

Friday came quickly. Sam was more nervous than a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. He put on his best pair of khaki slacks, loafers and navy blue button-up shirt. He combed through his unruly hair, and tried to tame the chocolate locks. He finally gave up and let the waves fall where they may.

Bobby gave a whistle as Sam came down the stairs. "Looking good, Sam! I guess now that you are a teenager, I guess you're going to start preening like your big brother, huh?"

"Please…Uncle Bobby, you know nobody could possible spend as much time in front of a mirror as Dean!" he laughed. He looked around trying to see if Dean had heard him, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Umm…where is he? We are supposed to pick up Ashley in twenty minutes and he is driving. I can't show up late, her mom already doesn't like the idea of her going on a date with me…if I'm late, I'll never get to see her again…" Sam rambled. His anxiety shot through the roof and he felt light headed.

"Easy, kid!" Bobby laughed. "Dean is already outside. He's been waiting on you. Here, take some extra cash with you and get outta here." Bobby smiled as he placed fifty dollars into the teens' hand and pushed the boy out the door.

The Impala gleamed in the fading sunlight and Dean stood on the passenger side with the back door open. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black tie. He completed the look with a chauffer's hat. He flashed a grin at Sam. "Your chariot awaits, Sir."

* * *

They pulled up to the McAdams' home with ten minutes early. Dean shut off the car and turned to his little brother. "Look, I'm not here as your brother tonight. I'm the driver, plain and simple. But I'm going to warn you, Mr. and Mrs. McAdams have already said that I'm not supposed to let you guys out of my sight. I will stay out of the way, but my biggest concern is for your safety. Ok?" He waited for Sam to nod and added, "Now it's not polite to keep a lady waiting, so I'm going to get out, open your door, and stay back while you go get your date. You cool? Oh, here, pop an Altoid. Go flash your dimples and charm those 'rents."

Sam had butterflies the size of vultures in his stomach when he made it to the door. He looked back at Dean, leaning against the car. The older boy grinned and nodded. Sam rang the bell and was quickly greeted by Mrs. McAdams and her perfect hair. She looked past him and waved at Dean, who gave her a small wave back. "Please come in, Sam. Ashley isn't ready yet."

Ashley and Sam emerged fifteen minutes later. Sam was pale and Ashley blushing. When they got to the car, Dean opened the door for them. He got behind the wheel and turned to the kids. "You two ok?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's head to the restaurant. If we eat first, we can hit the 8 o'clock show and have Ashley home by her curfew," Sam stammered.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered and drove to town's only Italian restaurant. It was quant, inexpensive, and cozy. Dean sat at the bar while the two got a table for two.

"Sam, I'm really sorry that my dad was so…well, dad. I know he can be a bit overwhelming.

"Look, Ashley. I like you. I'm not on a date with your dad. Yeah, it was a bit unnerving to have him say he would put my…um…jewels in a vice if I hurt you, but he just cares about you. He wants to keep you safe and I can't fault him for that." He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. She smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Sam."

* * *

The night went too quickly. Sam and Ashley laughed and talked. They held hands throughout the movie. While they were driven home, she leaned her head on Sam's shoulder. He turned his face into her hair and inhaled the scent of her shampoo…orchids. He placed a kiss on her forehead as they rolled to a stop. Dean opened the door and Sam escorted her to the door. Sam leaned down to kiss her when the door opened. Mrs. McAdams coughed and the two broke apart. Both were blushing. She waved to Dean. "Ashley, it's time to come in. Happy Birthday, Sam and good night."

The door closed and Sam made his way to the car. He climbed into the passenger seat with a smile on his face. It was a happy birthday, indeed.

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas. Thank you all for the reviews. Love and Smishes-Kat**


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